


Pearls Before Swine

by KillaColella



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Hospitalization, Kidnapping, Mental Health Issues, Michael sheen is hot tho I can't help it, Murder, Serial Killers, Therapy, Whump, he's not a good guy don't worry, im not trying to romanticize a murderer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22249522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillaColella/pseuds/KillaColella
Summary: "This concludes our danse macabrePortions of the proceeding were recordedAs for the rest of it, I'm very much afraid it was all in your mindI don't intend to indulge in any post-mortemIf you haven't been murdered, I can only sayBetter luck next timeIf you have been, goodnight wherever you are" - Alfred (Outro), Eminem.A thrilling exploration into the minds of two serial killers. Appoline Renard, a new patient at Claremont, and Martin Whitly. Passion, Lust, Murder, Manipulation, Lies, etc.New Chapters on Mondays.
Relationships: Martin Whitly/Original Character(s), Martin Whitly/Reader
Comments: 45
Kudos: 94





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. 
> 
> So, I don't know what this really is. Um, I don't write often....I love writing, don't get me wrong, but I have a particularly bad habit of falling victim to writer's block and being unable to push forward with my stories. My hope for this is that since there really isn't any stories like this for this fandom on this site, that might motivate me to write it. I mean, that's why I'm writing it in the first place...if nobody else is gonna write it, goddamn-it, I'll write it myself. 
> 
> Good news is, that I've started the second chapter already. I know this is a stupid short introduction. Like, stupid short. Don't worry, I'm able to write a lot more. I just wanted to throw this out there while I'm working on the second chapter, maybe I'll get some more inspiration and motivation. 
> 
> I have an idea of where I want this story to go as well, so that will help me flesh it out I think. 
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy this stupid short introduction to my weird little fanfic.

**Welcome Home**

The television in Martin Whitly's cell practically felt alive that night and he turned the volume up, eager to hear more from the night’s news segment. He paced around the room, staring intently at the screen and at the two bland news-casters. Martin Whitly was intrigued.

> _“Tonight’s top story: the serial killer Bonnie and Clyde duo that have been plaguing the neighborhoods of Newark have finally had their rampage come to an end tonight. The FBI, along with local law enforcement as well as with special assistance from the NYPD, were able to subdue and put down serial killer Sebastian Napier. Sebastian Napier was linked with the deaths of over 18 individuals in the New Jersey and New York areas, as well as a possible 15 other victims._
> 
> _The NYPD has arrested his girlfriend and likely accomplice, 27 year old Appoline Renard, who has herself been connected to at least six murders that were separate from Mr. Napier. The most recent being the murder of 26 year old Ryan Cooper, whose body was found in his New York City apartment by the NYPD on Tuesday evening. Ryan Cooper was the boyfriend of Napier’s final victim, 23 year old Jennifer Shaw, a grad student at Colombia University._
> 
> _For reason of insanity, Ms. Renard will be sent to Claremount Psychiatric, to serve out a life sentence…”_

Martin listened closely that evening as he heard more chaotic yelling and angry guards barking orders than usual in the maximum security section of Claremount, which was barely ever used. She must be getting transferred to Louis’s old room, he thought. He looked back at the television, seeing the video of a young female with long, dark hair being handcuffed and put into a cruiser. He smiled, a large, manic grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He couldn’t wait to welcome the special new guest.


	2. Appoline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be surprised over all the hits, kudos, and the couple comments I received for my short-ass little introduction chapter, but I realize that you're all thirsty for the Sheen as much as I am.
> 
> To celebrate Prodigal Son returning tonight, here is the 2nd chapter. Also, I just finished watching the episode. It was great, of course, but I can't help but think that the show could be so much better if it wasn't on regular, Fox network tv. Like, if this was a Netflix show or HBO show it could take so much more risks...
> 
> I apologize for the lack of Martin, but he'll be in the next one.

The room was barren, and she wondered if it was the barrenness that would drive her to insanity. The white, concrete walls, the clean floor…a twin bed, with crisp, scratchy white sheets and one white pillow lying right in the middle. A large metal cage sat in the blank room, which confined her inside a small 12x8 area of proximity that she would now have to call her home. A complete and utter opposite to what she was used to when she lived in Sebastian.

Seb. He was her everything, and she lived and breathed in his chaos. His bedroom never had crisp white sheets and cold stone walls. Everything was colorful, messy, imperfect. Just like him. Sebastian made everything around her interesting and worth living for.

And now he was gone. Life was boring once again.

Boring…with scratchy blankets. And stupid white walls.

And an exposed toilet that she had not yet grown accustomed to, no matter how much the guards had attempted to give her privacy. The toilet paper wasn’t even two ply.

Appoline sighed, trying to stretch out as much as she could on the tiny twin bed, her long legs dangling from the sides. She had been in the room for about six days she guessed now, without much to do but sit and stare at the ceiling. She had a few “visitors” throughout the past six days, and there was always a guard assigned to stand outside her room for security reasons. A physician has been assigned to her, accompanied by a few nurses who took her vitals, as well as a psychologist, Dr. Higa. Meeting with them had left her feeling more empty and confused than even before, when she was sitting in this room bored out of her mind.

They had left her with some light, paperback books, a coloring book, some crayons, blank pieces of paper, and a few, squishy balls that she imagined were supposed to be coping skills. Her doctor told her that all new patients were placed on a ten day, high-safeties protocol measure and that she wasn’t allowed to have anything that they could have considered ‘dangerous’. Hell, even the staples were removed from the magazines they had left for her.

“Ouch,” she hissed, and she looked down at the handcuffs that were clipped on a bit too tightly for her liking. Her legs they left untethered, which she was grateful for, as it allowed her to pace around the confines of the metal cell when she was feeling particularly antsy.

The girl heard the quick paced beeping of the passcode to her room being punched in, and the door swung in, revealing the familiar face of one of the guards. She had a few different ones now that the week is almost over, but this one had gained her attention right away. He was a bit too straight-edged for her taste, but far more appealing and intriguing than the unfriendly and unassuming women that they had stuck her with for hours. The man gave her a slight smile, walking towards her with a plate full of food.

‘ _He’s smiling’_ she thought. ‘He’s walking towards _me_ , a convicted serial killer, and he’s… _smiling.’._ Appoline shook her head. He can’t be _that_ stupid.

“Dinner’s here,” he called, a bit too enthusiastically.

Appoline grinned. He _might just be_ THAT stupid.

She ran a hand through her long dark hair, shaking out some of her curls and standing up off her bed. She gave a big groan, stretching and arching her back, internally smiling at the way the guard was attempting to hide his admiration. She sauntered over to the opening of the cage and he slid her dinner through.

She sighed loudly as she looked down at the dinner prepared for her and sat down on her bed cross-legged. Appoline pushed the food around a bit with her plastic fork. It was some form of casserole, and looked barely edible. But she was starving, so she speared a piece of what looked like chicken with her fork and popped it in her mouth.

“I’ll need to see the fork when you’re done,” the man said, breaking her out of her focus. Appoline nodded, continuing to chew the chicken that was just a _bit_ too tough. That was the deal. She was allowed to use plastic kitchen utensils so long as she gave them back when she was done. No throwing it away in her garbage basket so that she could keep it for later and stab some poor, unsuspecting guard with it.

She wondered if she even _could_ stab a guard with a plastic fork. Would definitely need a lot of momentum.

Appoline looked back up at the guard, who had positioned himself in the plastic chair in the corner while she ate silently. Sometimes the guards would sit there in the room with her, and sometimes they would stand outside the room, by the door. She couldn’t decide which she liked less. On one hand, she found herself craving human interaction in at least some form, and having a guard around helped a bit with the feelings of loneliness that came crashing down to her at certain weak moments. On the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel like some sort of circus animal in a cage when they sat outside her cell and peered in at her.

“What’s your name, anyway?” Appoline cut through the silence. It was bullshit anyway, she could tell he wanted to talk to her as much as she wanted to talk to him. He seemed surprised though, and he stopped doodling random crap on his little pad on paper that he took with him to look up at her. _REALLY_ look at her. Like he was a lion tamer deciding whether or not it was worth it to poke the lion just _one more time_ or if he was risking getting an arm swiped off.

She guessed that he decided it would be worth it.

“Bill,” he answered, and she internally rolled her eyes at the name. Bill. How mundane, yet so fitting for him, she thought. She flashed him a small smile though, attempting to appear sincere and repeated his name, letting it roll off her tongue.

“Now _that’s_ a name,’’ she said.

“Well, it’s not as flashy as Appoline, but it get’s the job done,” Bill responded, walking towards her cage. “What does that name even mean, anyway?”

Appoline shrugged, taking another bite of her casserole and scrunching her nose. “It’s French.” she answered, giving the simplest explanation. Not that _that_ even meant anything either. She wasn’t even French. Her parents were just pompous prats.

But Bill seemed satisfied enough by the answer. He gave her what she considered a condescending look, “Do you always play with your food?” he teased, noticing her push it around with her fork.

Is he _teasing me_? she thought. Yes, yes he was.

Appoline could play stupid. She had her Masters in Counseling and went to school for psychology, but the guards don’t think about that, don’t remember it when working with her. It didn’t matter that she was, on paper, more intelligent than them. She was a young girl in a box. A girl who had to rely on the guards for everything. Ask for more toilet paper, ask for them to turn the light off when she wanted to sleep…have to give him back her plastic fork when she was all done with dinner like a good little girl. They could forget who she was in here.

And she could play that part. Appoline knew that she could, after everything that she had been through, she could play any part that she wanted if she just put enough effort into it. She could and would do whatever she needed to in order to survive.

So she played back with him. Her eyes fluttered prettily back at him as he teased her and she finished up her casserole. He opened up the little food slot to the cage. Appoline grabbed the plate to get up and give it to him, before deciding to make a show of it and she licked the plate clean. Bill’s eyebrows shot up and she saw a glint of _something_ in his eyes, but he said nothing. She giggled, before sauntering over and pushing the plate out in front of him. He grabbed it through the slot, placing it off onto the side and he put his hand back out expectantly.

“The fork?” he stated. Appoline grinned and took the fork out from her pants pocket, placing it in his hand. Seems like he isn't _too_ stupid, she thought. Probably a good thing. If he was too stupid, then playing with him wouldn’t be any fun at all. Bill grabbed the fork and plate, closed and locked the glass lid to the small opening of the cell where food and other items were exchanged, and walked away.

“Bye Bill!” she called out. He gave her a quick look back but said nothing. And she was alone again.

* * *

“So, Appoline, how has Claremount been treating you so far?” the doctor asked her, for what she imagined was the fifteenth time since she has been here. Appoline liked Dr. Higa well enough, even respected him. After all, she had gone to grad school with the intent of pursuing a higher education in counseling.

She never considered counseling violent criminal psychopaths and sociopaths, however. She imagined it must have paid his bills _very_ nicely.

Appoline had been at Claremont for a little over a month. Ten days into her stay, they had finally decided that she was well enough to be taken off of high security precautions, which she greatly appreciated. Meaning that she didn’t have to have a guard check in on her every ten minutes _(it was now a glorious half hour check! And eventually, she could be on a safety status of only needing a safety check once every hour!)_. She was also allowed small luxuries to keep in her cell with her, instead of having to ask the guards to use her hygiene products which could only have been used in front of them ( _she once made a guard particularly irate when she decided that she would spend about an hour simply brushing her hair. The guard had to sit there and watch her with the item until she decided she was done)._

“The food isn’t bad,” she finally answered, and smirked a little bit at his deadpan expression. Actually, that was a lie, the food was _awful,_ but that didn’t much matter.

“Last time we talked, you mentioned that you were having trouble getting and staying asleep. Is this still happening? We’ve decreased your security checks, so the guards shouldn’t be waking you up in the middle of the night as often.”

Appoline thought about that, about the guards opening the door to the room where her cell was and shining their flashlights into her face. It has been particularly irritating, and more than once she had cussed out the night-shift guards for doing so.

“Yes, it has helped a little.” she finally answered.

_“Are you having any nightmares?”_

_“How are your medications working for you?”_

_“Do you think we need to up your Prozac?”_

_“Are you eating enough?”_

_“Are you having any negative thoughts?”_

On and on the doctor asked question after question, and Appoline was beginning to tire of it. He meant well, but honestly the questions always seemed the same and never truly addressed what she really wanted to talk about anyway.

She had talked briefly with Dr. Higa bout the murders, about her family, about Sebastian…to which they always seemed to reach the same conclusion, that she was blaming everyone else for what she had done but herself. Her controlling father, her 'dysfunctional' and 'abusive' relationship with Sebastian...that she leaned on them as excuses for her bad behavior. After all, a lot of people had horrible people in their lives, and didn't resort to murdering six people because of it. 

"Appoline, you've been here a little over a month now, and we're only now getting to the head of why the things that has happened, happened," Dr. Higa said, jotting down some notes in his little journal that he took to every counseling session with her. Oh, how Appoline would _kill_ to get a hands on it. Well, not kill. But she was fascinated wondering what he was able to analyze about her mind. 

She wasn't crazy. Not _really_ , anyway. Every single person she killed, _had_ to be killed. 

It wasn't the same as Seb. It wasn't a compulsion. She did not kill because she even wanted to, she killed because that's what it took to be with him. 

To be with Sebastian. 

Sometimes, images of Rachel flashed through her head, quick like a merry-go-round, swirling and spinning in her mind. The fear, the blood on her blonde hair. 

Appoline shook her head, willing the images away as she attempted to focus back on her doctor. He was saying something to her but she missed it. 

"What was that?" she asked, blinking. Blue eyes with long lashes seared frantically into her soul. She blinked again, the image was gone.

"I said, what would you think about going the group session that I run on Mondays and Thursdays," Dr. Higa repeated to her, frowning. "Appoline, are you ok? Are you with me?"

Appoline swallowed down those memories like she swallowed a particularly large capsule of Trazodone. Right down the gullet. "Yes, I-I'm fine. A group?"

Dr. Higa continued to monitor her like a particularly interesting specimen, "Yes, I run a group for several of the other patients in the maximum security section of the hospital. Patients with backgrounds not so unlike yours-"

"Serial killers?" she asked, raising her eyebrows, "You put a group of serial killers together and, what, have them all talk about their feelings?"

"Not everyone in the group is technically a _serial killer_ ," he responded, looking at her seriously, "but they are in here for the same reason as you. Because they have killed someone, and because they are dealing with their own mental health issues. Not unlike yourself, and due to that, many of them find a sort of solace in group therapy. A way to talk to others who have dealt with similar problems, in ways that I haven't, and of which you might find helpful. We will have our regular individual sessions, of course, but this is an opportunity for you to continue to grow and learn during your time here."

_Grow and learn during your time_ here. Of course, that's why Appoline wasn't in a regular prison, because everyone thought she was _insane_. Well, so be it. Besides, if it gave her more time outside of her room and a chance to interact with more people than just the security guards and her doctors, why not? She thought the idea was deluded and just overall horrible (who puts a group of killers in the same room together? honestly?), but it would definitely bring back more of that _color_ that she was so desperately missing since the death of her lover. 

So Appoline looked up from her wringing hands, and smiled at the doctor, "So? When do we begin?"


	3. Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I already got this chapter out! Before the new episode tomorrow too!!
> 
> Ok guys, so from here, the story should pick up A LOT. And it will definitely deserve the rating that I put up on here, trust me. I can't wait to write more of this story, things are gonna get exciting pretty darn soon I think.
> 
> please please leave me any comments if you have any ideas or suggestions or if you like it, ANYTHING, it will definitely keep me motivated to keep writing.

The food wasn’t the worst thing about Claremount, Appoline decided, shivering violently as freezing cold water poured down her back. The showers provided little to no warmth most of the time, and she was forced to decide between being dirty or possibly getting hypothermia. Fortunately, as she was one of the only female patients in the maximum security unit, she had the entire shower area to herself this morning. There were about ten rows of shower stalls throughout the large room, and each shower was equipped with a ledge to sit on, if needed. A curtain provided some privacy, which she was grateful for. A female guard waited on the other side of the room for her to finish washing up and take her back to her cage.

As she lathered her hair up with some shampoo she got from a tiny travel sized bottle they provided at the hospital, she thought about the day ahead of her. Sometime after lunch, she would be beginning her first group therapy session with Dr. Higa and a whole crew of miscreants. They were all men, he explained, but he emphasized that he would make sure she was treated with respect and dignity in the group, and that she would be allowed to leave whenever she felt unsafe or threatened. Most of the men didn’t have any particular problems with women, she was told. No Ted Bundys or anything of _that_ sort.

Still, Appoline couldn’t help but be a bit nervous about her first day. What if they didn’t like her? What if they saw her as just a little girl, like the guards? And she became a joke to them? She imagined that the weak ones were weeded out quickly, and she didn’t want to be on the bad end of some other killer’s ire.

“You have 5 more minutes!” the guard called out, and Appoline rolled her eyes, scrubbing her hair harder and throwing in some conditioner for good measure. The shampoo and conditioner didn’t even smell good, but she didn’t have any personal belongings brought in by any family members and she had no money. She would have to deal with whatever the hospital was willing to give her for now, until she managed to somehow reach out to her father.

Not that she imagined he would buy anything for her anymore. Except maybe a straight-jacket.

She quickly washed her body with a bar of unscented soap and turned off the shower, shivering. She quickly dried herself off and threw on her johnnies. A plain white t-shirt, white pants, some socks, and a pair of white slides. She had access to her own bra and underwear (the bra had the underwire taken out, of course...no access to 'potentially dangerous objects' for her), but that was about it.

She looked down at her shirt, at the dark numbers shouting starkly against the white shirt from her breast.

 **#9875**. _That’s who she is now._

“I’m done,” Appoline announced, leaving the safety and privacy ( _the only place in this entire hospital that_ WAS _private_ ) of the shower stall and letting the female guard shackle her and bring her back to her little cage. The guard punched in the code to the room, the keypad hidden by a large black box that hid the hands from Appoline’s eyes.

 _Still_ , she thought. Maybe if she just _tried_ hard enough, she could memorize the code.

She certainly had enough time on her hands.

Appoline finished up her breakfast and spent her morning reading a book, some Nora Roberts _garbage_ that was available because at that point it was either that or a bible. And GOD, she wasn’t going to be one of _those_ mental patients, not if she could help it…blabbering on about the _word of GOD_ and _salvation_ while caged inside an insane asylum for dangerous criminals like a drooling sycophant.

Ugh. There was definitely going to be at least one of those in group today, wasn’t there?

Around 11:30AM, the door to the room beeped again ( _hmm…two of those middle numbers_ MIGHT _have sounded the same_ ) and in walked Bill, already grinning at her. Appoline smiled back from her bed, where she sat laying on her stomach. She began to swing her legs in the air playfully, crossing them and resting her face in her hands.

“Bring me anything?” Appoline asked, forgetting her book and paying all her attention on the guard in front of her. He stopped in front of her cage, crossing his arms and peering down at her.

“Well look at you,” Bill chuckled, dragging out each word. He chucked his hand into the pockets of his uniform and took out a small, fun-size piece of chocolate. Wiggling it in front of her, Appoline pushed up on her hands and gave him her most award winning smile. Bill tossed it into the cage and she grabbed it, opening the wrapper and taking a small bite.

 _MMmmm_ …the chocolate was the best thing she had eaten in days. She licked her lips, savoring each and every bite. 

“Heard someone’s got a play date today,” the guard said condescendingly, “are you going to play nice with the other kids?”

Appoline continued to lick her fingers, trying to get every single scrap of chocolate she could, “I’ll play nice if they play nice.” she responded. Bill chuckled, and he took out a long rope from his back pocket.

“Alright, pretty thing, here’s how this is going to go,” he started, toying with the rope in his hands, “You’re going to come over here. You’re going to stick your hands through the opening, and I’m going to attach this rope to your handcuffs. Then you are going to walk with me _silently_ to the group. You’re not going to talk to anyone in the halls, or wave to anyone, or even smile at anyone. You’re going to face your pretty little head down and keep that mouth closed until you get there. _Capisce_?”

Appoline nodded, “Capisce.”

She got up from her bed and sauntered over to the window, sticking her hands out. He clipped the rope to her handcuffs, which he also tightened quite a bit. Pulling on the rope, making sure that it was taut, he unlocked the door to her cage and waited for her to step out. The cage closed behind her and she shuddered in relief. Anytime they brought her out of the cage, she couldn’t help but get such a rushing taste of _freedom_.

But she did as he told her, and kept her head down for the duration of the walk. The walk to the group room was a lot longer than the walk she took to the showers, which was the only time she ever got a chance to leave the room. They passed by a lot more people this way too; janitors whom she never noticed before, mopping the floors. Nurses, doctors…guards that she didn’t recognize, and she realized it was because they must’ve been assigned to work with the men. She could feel the stares from everyone, hear the whispers and the sharp intakes of breath as she passed by.

Finally, Bill and Appoline tracked through several different halls and wards before making it to a room with a large set of steel doors. Appoline chanced to look up, brushing dark curls out of her face so she could read the sign.

**Block B Med Clinic Infirmary Rec Area.**

_Here goes nothing_ , she thought. Bill opened the room and she peered in.

It was a large room, with exposed vents all over the walls and the air was freezing in the room, much colder than other parts of the hospital. Not for the first time, Appoline wished that she had a sweatshirt to keep her warm. But again, that would require a loved one to bring her in one…which she didn’t have. Not anymore.

A few of the other patients were already sitting in there waiting for group, as was their guard who must have been assigned to them. Three men, two young black men and an older man with long hair were staring at her curiously, but didn’t say anything to her. She looked back at Bill who smirked at her and gave her a small push forward, and she found an empty seat to the side. Bill joined the other guards, who were all standing off to the side of the group. Not hovering over them, but close enough that they could intervene if needed. The other guards were men, young like Bill, and one of them whispered something in Bill’s ear which made him laugh loudly.

Appoline glared at Bill, knowing that they were likely whispering something about her and he winked back. She huffed, crossing her arms and continued looking around the room. Two more patients shuffled in with their guards, another older fellow with white hair and a bald younger man. The bald man was the first person to wave at her animatedly, but she couldn’t find it in her to share in his excitement, and ended up just staring rudely back at him. The seat next to her was still empty. _I don’t bite_ , she thought, staring at the men who were either 1) staring back at her in fear, curiosity, or animosity or 2) looking decidedly anywhere but at her.

Dr. Higa followed next, a few large files in his hand and a notebook and he sat himself down in a seat not far from her. He took a look over the group, “Almost everyone,” he said to himself, and got himself comfortable. “Just waiting on Martin and then we’ll begin.”

 _Martin_. Where did she know that name from?

Another minute or so passed by, and the door opened one last time behind her, and she heard the rattling of chains and more footsteps. Dr. Higa looked up and nodded at the patient, “Martin,” he said, and she felt the presence of a figure get closer to her and sit down in the chair next to hers.

Her first impression of Martin was that she could tell that back in the day, he must have been very, _very_ handsome. Not that he wasn’t so bad to look at now…not bad at _alllll_ , the more and more she looked at him. He had a nice mop of brown curls on his head; sure, they were graying, but she imagined that they would feel very soft under her fingertips. A beard too…Sebastian never had a beard. She wonders what THAT would feel like. Eyes…green? Hazel? She couldn’t tell without being too obvious and she didn’t want to stare at him _too long._ She blinked. She heard the doctor speaking, but couldn’t understand what he was saying. How long had she been staring at him anyway? _How embarrassing._

The doctor cleared his throat and she tore her eyes away from the man next to her and smiled sheepishly at the doctor. Dr. Higa stared at her for a moment, and then continued on, “As I was starting to say, I want to welcome a new patient to our group this morning. I know we discussed this at our previous session, but I want to remind _everyone_ ,” he gave one of the younger men a pointed look, and Appoline shifted uncomfortably, “that everyone here is deserving of the same amount of respect, confidentiality, and dignity. Regardless of race, or religion, or gender…so,” he stopped again, and gestured to Appoline. The entire group shifted their focus back to her and she started fidgeting, “would you like to introduce yourself?”

Silence. She felt eyes staring her down in the room, not just the patients or the doctors but the guards as well, and she felt her body get heated. Itchy. Urgh, _why_ was she so itchy? _Why was she even nervous?_ Nervous, in front of this group of clowns? She was Appoline Renard, girlfriend of Sebastian Napier and a mother-fucking badass.

Appoline shrugged her shoulders, rolling her neck and running a hand through her dark hair, “Not really.” she bit out. _And here we go…_

A few of the patients snickered and she saw Bill smirking out of the corner of her eye again, whispering to another guard. They laughed together. Dr. Higa looked somewhat annoyed, but not surprised. He tried again, “For clarification, I don’t expect all members to participate in every session. Your participation is completely voluntary. Perhaps, if the other members of the group can go around and introduce themselves?” he asked, trailing off and gesturing towards the man next to him. The man rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back further in his seat.

“Ken”, “Joey”, “Keon”, “I’m Tevin!”, “Miles”, “Dominic”, and _finally, him_ , “Dr. Whitly,” he smiled, finally meeting her eyes. She could hardly _breathe_. “But you can call me Martin.”

 _Dr. Martin Whitly._ THAT’S who he was. _EVERYONE_ knew about the surgeon. Sebastian had even said he once felt inspired by the surgeon, and although he never quite reached his kill count, she imagined he felt a pull to reach his level. His _greatness_. Although she never felt the same about murder as Seb, or the same _pull_ , she could agree and _understand_ the reverence, to a degree…imagine being responsible for THAT many deaths.

It was her turn to speak, but she found herself forming so many thoughts and ideas in her head about the man sitting next to her. He continued to smile at her, as if _knowing,_ as if he _knew what he was doing to her_ and the thoughts running around her head. Luckily, as if by some grace of God (ugh…), that annoying Tevin character interrupted her before she got a chance to open her mouth.

“You’re Appoline Renard, aren’t you!?” he said excitedly, “you were the girlfriend of Sebastian Napier! You—”

“Tevin,” Dr. Higa interrupted, sternly but not necessarily unkindly, “I want everyone here to get the chance to introduce _themselves._ And share about themselves what they feel uncomfortable with when they are ready.” Tevin looked down nervously, quieted down by the doctor.

“It’s fine,” Appoline said, “That’s my name.”

When Dr. Higa realized he wasn’t going to get anymore out of her for that session, he continued on with the session as he normally would, carrying on the conversation from last week regarding understanding their aggression. Appoline rolled her eyes but listened to the group anyway.

Each member had a different thing about him that made him specifically unique, and she could tell that even if she didn’t think this group would necessarily be _helpful_ , well, it would definitely at least be _interesting_. _Especially_ with that handsome Dr. Whitley, she thought.

Eventually the clock hit the hour mark and Dr. Higa announced that the group was over, and that they would be rejoining again on Thursday. Everyone said their goodbyes and were joined by their prospective guard; she noticed that Martin had a very tall, dark skinned guard with him. He looked serious, more serious than _Bill_ , she thought, who was grinning as he made his way towards her. Appoline held out her hands, ready for Bill to put the rope on.

Bill chuckled, “What a good girl,” he said, _loudly_. Appoline could’ve _hissed_ but remained silent, instead deciding to look anywhere else but at the guard. She noticed Martin staring at her again, his own guard starting to restrict him with rope as well, and then staring at Bill. She raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something. He blessedly didn’t though, and the guard started leading him out of the room and down the hall. Bill followed in pursuit, pulling her forward past a few of his guard friends, “ _Excuse us, gotta get this little badass home”_ , who quietly laughed along with him.

Bunch of chauvinistic pigs. The lot of them.

Here she was, Appoline Renard, badass girlfriend of the late Seb Napier, who was being joked around about by a man with a _crew cut_.

The audacity.

They reached the cage and once again she felt a wave of loneliness rush through her once again, as she was left in the room with nobody but herself and that _douchebag_. He took her rope off and she got as far as she could away from him, sitting herself on the bed and grabbing the first thing she saw to distract her from him. She rolled the small pink ball of putty in her hands, calming at the smoothness of it. She breathed.

“So, think you’ll go back?” he asked, snapping her out of her tranquility. He was leaning up against her cage, peering down at her. She thought about it, and smashing the putty against the wall, flattening it.

“Oh, definitely.”

And she would go back. She _had_ to go back. Because that's where _he_ would be. 

_Him._


	4. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why this chapter was such a struggle for me but it was, but I got it out! In time for the new episode too. 
> 
> Let me know what you think and if you think Martin's POV was okay. Sometimes I struggle with writing characters' voices and I get too much in my head about whether or not the character sounds in character enough. 
> 
> Also, I KNOW...this is a slow burn. the slowest of burns. You're all itching for some E-Rated material, I KNOW. But I trying really really hard to keep this...realistic? Like, two characters don't meet in one day and then start boinking the next day. Also, they're in prison...anything between them is going to take time to get around the structure of Claremount. Trust me, Appoline WILL GET IT IN. They WILL have sexy times. I'm just trying to keep this as natural feeling as possible. 
> 
> Finally...when reading this, keep in mind...Appoline is a patient in a psychiatric hospital for the criminally insane. Take everything she says and thinks with this in mind....if you're ever reading what she is thinking and saying to yourself wtf.

Physically, she was lovely. A near _perfect_ specimen.

Long, dark hair, with loose, curly waves that he just _itched_ to touch, and not for the _first_ time, he imagined what it would be like to _grab_ her by that mane. Have her down, on her knees, looking up at him with those large dark eyes…

Martin Whitly swallowed, and took a deep breath through his nose. Was no good to get distracted by _those_ kind of thoughts, at least not right now. As it were, the object of his attention was currently cracking her knuckles, a habit that she did quite often during their group sessions. She’d crack her knuckles, one finger at a time, and then stretch her neck, her _back_ …her curvy body _stretchinggg just enough,_ creating such an exquisite arch in that lower vertebrae.

The cracking reminds him too much of when he used to crack _other_ things, and he feels himself torn for a moment choosing between two…how could he put it? _Vices._

Neither of which, he realizes, he’s done in a long, long time…

 _Far too long_ , he thinks to himself, gazing at the girl.

Appoline Renard definitely added something to the monotony of their usual group sessions. Of course, she never spoke a word; for the last two weeks, she had sat through the groups without saying much of anything. She listened, though, he could tell…she sat there silence, smirking at times, sneering at others, sometimes pouting ( _and didn’t he just want to bite those pouty little lips—_ ), often rolling her eyes. It seemed that young Appoline had a similar distaste for their current companions’ obsessions over religious nonsense as well. That was good. He had had enough of religious zealots.

And unless he was wrong, and he wasn’t often wrong about these sorts of things, didn’t she just seem _interested_ in him, too. He had to admit, wasn’t it just a _pleasant_ surprise when he noticed her looking at him just a _liittttle_ bit longer than anybody else.

The group had been going on for at least five minutes, but Martin was struggling to pay attention today. The guard that had been bringing in Appoline for the last several sessions made another particularly crude comment about the girl when they had come into the group room. A few of the usual gang of neanderthals sniggered along with him; a bunch of knuckle draggers who might have managed to polish off two years of some low level community college droll to wind up playing glorified babysitters to a bunch of violent sociopaths in Claremont Hospital.

His guard didn’t play around in the nonsense, of which he was grateful for. Martin had liked Mr. David. It would be a shame to have to rip the esophagus out of his throat and dissect his larynx as well.

 _Speaking of throats_ , she had a very pretty one as well. Long, with a few small moles marking it like stars.

He wonders if her insides are just as pretty as the outside.

Good Dr. Higa distracts him from these small ponders though.

“The next couple of weeks we will go over the topic of control, and how you have dealt with issues regarding control in your lives, both before and after your sentences here at Claremont.” Dr. Higa started, beginning the week’s group therapy session discussion. He had a different topic for the group to go over every month.

Last month’s topic, anger management, was a doozy…on more than one occasion, dear Ken had been a prime example of the topic of anger management, as he exploded into various maniacal tangents regarding his anger and his dealings with it. As it would SEEM, Dr. Higa seemed to have dropped the proverbial ball when it came to including their new little dear-heart into their overwhelmingly masculine sausage fest.

Sure, Ken was not a serial killer who only targeted young women for sake of sexual gratification…he had killed his fair share of men as well, a point that Dr. Higa seemed to take maybe too much into consideration when adding Appoline into the group. Because Appoline’s particular blatant and rather…less than courteous _disregard_ for the men of the group, adding to the fact that she was a beautiful young female, seemed to put Ken on the edge _just enough_ to entice a few interesting rants from the man.

Martin had to admit though, Appoline had taken the rants a lot more in stride than he would have expected. The words “bitch” and “whore” had been thrown around several times and she had not so much had blinked in response. Of course, apologies were forced out afterwards and Appoline was a least gracious enough to not tear him apart. She remained her usual silent self and shrugged it off, seemingly unbothered. Maybe Martin shouldn’t have found it so surprising though, her _fucking_ guard was probably saying things to her that were just as disgusting as the mindless rambling of a mental patient, she was likely used to it. And good Dr. Higa was able to break down the tension by reminding everyone that “we have all triggers and our reactions to these triggers are all part of the angry behavior cycle and blah blah blah— _”_

And now they were talking about control…how their choices have consequences and our locus of control. _You only have control over yourselves._ Digging deep into your _emotions_.

“But when I killed her, it _finally_ felt like I said some level of control in my life, and everything finally made sense,” Keon was beginning to ramble on. Ah, here we go again. Keon had slaughtered his mother with a katana on the night of her fifty-third birthday (Martin could only imagine the precise, quick slashes that the boy must have delivered in order to have cut that neck off clean and _neat…_ Happy Birthday indeed).

Dr. Higa looked around the room, “I imagine a lot of you can probably relate to Keon, in this manner…who else had experienced some feelings of being in control when you were able to unleash your anger in violent manner that you did?”

Most of the men nodded and voiced their agreement, and Martin thought about it. Sure, his time as The Surgeon created a wave of calm over the chaos of his life. The thrill of actually carving a human alive was only half of the pleasure; the planning, the organizing, the sheer _patience_ needed to wait to find his victims, to stalk and capture them…it also sent another shiver of pleasure up his spine and he found himself quite nostalgic.

“In control?” the feminine voice rang out, a shock ringing against the lower baritone voices of the group. Appoline suddenly looked lost and out of place in their particular crowd, “No. Never. I’ve felt a lot of things when I—nev…never _in control._ ”

Dr. Higa looked at her expectantly then, encouraging her to further explain. “Go on”. A girl who had been so quiet, and silent during all of their sessions, suddenly being so _revealing_ for the very first time. Appoline looked unsure all of a sudden and like she immediately wanted to go back to remaining a silently judging fly on the wall.

“I felt a lot of things when I did what I did…” she started, “Scared. Anxious. Excited. Happy. Worried. Passionate. Confused. Wild. Chaotic. Nervous. _Horny_.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. Martin found himself also having to take a deep breath, and having to adjust himself. “ _Never in control_.”

“That’s very interesting Appoline,” Dr. Higa responded, “Although not necessarily surprising. Your journey looks a lot different than many of your peers here. However, I do imagine that at least _part_ of your actions were a result of an attempt to make sense of the world around you. Appoline, you’ve kept silent these past several sessions that you have attended,” Appoline managed to look more uncomfortable, if possible, “and you’re finally speaking now. Do you feel like you’re ready to finally start sharing with the group?”

She started twirling her fingers through small stands of hair, another endearing habit of hers that he noticed. “I don’t know where I would start…” she began.

“Well you were fucking another serial killer, so there’s that,” Ken shot out, and this time the girl finally gave him a glare that was worthy of her name.

Appoline looked positively _murderous_ (how delicious, Martin thought), “I don’t want to talk about Seb.”

“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to,” the counselor emphasized. When her silence made it abundantly clear that she was very much done sharing for the day, and to be fair, it was the most she had shared during her entire time in the sessions, he decided to carry on with the topic at hand. It was slightly disappointing, because she had finally made the group seem interesting, even if only for a few minutes.

“We’re going to do something different for this month,” Dr. Higa finally announced, after drawling on for a bit longer about how we can control _positive_ things in our lives. “I’ve decided that I am going to split you all into pairs and you will be working together. This will give you the opportunity to work on your interpersonal communication, how to hold appropriate conversations, build empathy…skills that you may find easier to strengthen in a partnership rather than in the whole group setting. I will be pairing you off as follows—”

 _Well this is_ _quite_ _different_ , Martin thought excitedly. His heart was drumming in his chest so fast that it was beginning to ache and give him whiplash, but he stayed focus on the doctor as he began to pair off the patients. Ken and Miles…Dominic and Tevin…his heart drummed and drummed violently…Keon and Joey. A breath.

The girl looked at him. Her mouth curved upwards.

* * *

She was surprised at her own voice when she spoke out loud, but it was too late, and she couldn’t go back or force the words back down her own throat. They were there, out in the open, getting the attention of the others, making her _vulnerable_. But she couldn’t help it, it had just felt so wrong to her. Control.

When she had whacked Jonathan’s skull with a baseball bat and kept going until his brain matter resembled chicken pad Thai from Taste of Siam, she did not feel as if she was _“in control”_.

The bile began to rise up in her throat again as she thought of Jonathan, but she swallowed it down. As she always does, Appoline reminds herself why she did what she did. Why she _had_ to…why she had _no other choice_.

Dr. Higa had announced that they were going to be paired up, given partners, and embarrassedly, she wonders if it’s because of her. Because she can’t handle being so revealing to an entire group, maybe he thinks that she would do better one-on-one with another patient. She looks at the men surrounding her and doubts it.

Keon and Joey were nice enough, they were young and around her age and she imagined that she could get along well enough with either of them. Tevin had grated her nerves since day one, but he would be putty in her hands and she wouldn’t have to work hard with him. Dominic was okay. A bit religious for her taste. Miles was older and she didn’t think she’d have much in common with the man…Ken had despised her, that much was clear, and she didn’t feel like spending her group therapy sessions having to hear him refer to her as a bitch or whore. She felt degraded enough by Bill’s small little comments, she didn’t need to take on more misogyny than she could chew.

But she _didn’t_ get paired with any of them. “Martin” slipped out of Dr. Higa’s mouth, paired with “Appoline” and her stomach started turning in little flips. She looked over at her partner, who was staring her down with an expression that she just _couldn’t figure out_ , and those little flips turned into full on summersaults. Dr. Higa cleared his throat and the patients all looked towards him expectantly.

“Alright everyone, so get up, move your seat if you have to…and I know you all know each other pretty well by now, but I want you all to reintroduce yourselves, maybe ask a few questions that you don’t know about each other, find common ground—”

Appoline didn’t hear the end of the sentence because she was too busy staring at Martin, who was looking up at her expectantly. Expectantly. He wanted her to _come_ to him. As if a sudden force of nature, her legs were moving, and she couldn’t remember how she had gotten to him but her body naturally carried her on over across the room. She sat in the empty chair next to him. Appoline looked across the room. Bill was looking over at them but didn’t seem particularly bothered, he was too busy chatting it up with another guard.

“Your guard is quite the catch,” a voice said suavely, catching her off guard. Appoline looked away from Bill and back towards Martin, who was staring at her with a slight smirk on his face. She frowned immediately.

“Excuse me?”

“Your guard,” he jutted his chin out towards Bill, “He seems to like you quite a bit.”

Her handsome group therapy partner’s first words directly to her were about _freaking Bill_? Oh, that would absolutely not do. She crossed her legs, “I don’t want to talk about Bill.”

When Martin grinned it reminded her slightly of the Cheshire cat. A little devious, mostly mischievous. Handsome, charming…it made her stupid heart flutter. But he nodded, as if he understood, as if he _could_ understand why she didn’t want to talk about that dolt, “Of course, I’m sorry Appoline,” he said her name sooo perfectly… “What would you like to talk about?”

She looked at him, and he looked genuine in that moment. Like he _really, truly_ wanted to get to know her. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Yes, her doctors, and nurses, and guards, and psychologist asked her questions. They wanted answers. And they said they wanted to know _about_ her. But they didn’t want to know her soul, her heart…who she really was, and why she did the things that she did. And in that moment she thought, she hoped, and, in her weakest moments, _prayed_ , yes. Yes, maybe he does…maybe he DOES want to know her heart. Maybe she could be more than just a patient, just a fucked up girl who did some fucked up things for the man she loved.

Martin Whitly was The Surgeon, but she bet he was _so much more_ , too. He was smart, he had his doctorate, he had _saved_ people…she knew there was more behind the stories, behind the newspaper clippings and CNN headlines.

And she couldn’t wait to find out.


	5. Freezing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I wasn't able to get this out in time before the Prodigal Son episode yesterday! I feel so bad, especially after I made a comment on my story that I would have them posted before the new episodes on Mondays! Truth is, I had a really horrible weekend and learned some pretty bad news, so it took me a bit to get my head on straight to write this chapter. But I'm moving forward...
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! The slow burn is going to start to burn, baby. Soon enough, you'll see. 
> 
> ALSO, let me know what you think about the editing of this chapter...I spaced out the words/paragraphs in this chapter more than the other ones. I felt like my fanfic didn't look right and it needed to be spaced out. Please let me know what you think and if you like this better or the other style better...if you like this better, I'll go back and fix the other chapters. Let me know, thanks! :)

The summer had been more unbearably hot than it had in previous years, so of course, Claremont Hospital pumped its air conditioning out, making the hospital model the frozen tundra of the Arctic. The guards switched the thermostats on their lowest settings and the air conditioning had roared its ugly head to life.

Appoline was _freezing_.

While the guards enjoyed the reprieve of the air conditioning after escaping the 100+ degrees weather outside the hospital, Appoline was stuck in the cold for most of the day. _Her_ only reprieve was the one hour per day that she had recently got clearance for to go out into the courtyard. Sure, there wasn’t actually much to do in the courtyard. The courtyard was a medium sized yard in the back of the hospital, surrounded by 15ft. tall barbed wires. Appoline noticed security cameras in each corner of the courtyard. It had a grassy area, an old looking picnic table, and a concrete area with a basketball hoop. A half-pumped basketball sat sadly on the picnic table, waiting to be used by physically frustrated patient.

Appoline was looking forward to her outside time today, because her body was starting to feel like death. She was so, so cold…the thin white t-shirt that they provided her did not provide enough warmth to combat the air conditioning. She was currently wrapped all up in her blankets and her bedspread, watching the clock against the wall tick closer and closer to 11:30AM. She had group therapy for about an hour, and then lunch, and then, blessedly, her outside time, where she will be able to warm her body under the sun’s hot rays.

And she was _really_ looking forward to group therapy. Ever since she was paired with Martin for their sessions, she had looked forward to the sessions immensely. It was practically all she could think about. They would enter the room, listen to Dr. Higa attempt to life coach them on some inane topic, and then he would let them split up into their pairs. And Appoline would make her way over to Martin, who would smile at her and ask her how she was doing, and then they would get into a long, deep discussion.

He was so smart. And he appreciated her intelligence as well, she could tell. For the first time in _so long_ , Martin treated her like the educated adult that she was. He didn’t look at her like she was stupid and crazy. Martin _asked_ her about her schooling, about her experience working in the mental health field, about her residency…and he shared with her stories about himself, which she listened in fascination. Appoline could listen to him for hours, as he told her about how he spent years perfecting the famous Whitly method and saved hundreds of lives during his time as chief surgeon at the hospital. As the only two patients in the entire group who obtained a high education, Appoline wondered if they were placed together for that purpose; _only each other_ , could understand what it would be like to be who they were, in a place like this.

The beeping of the keypad knocked her out of her daydreams and in walked Bill, ready to bring her to her favorite time of the day. Sweat glistened on his forehead and he whistled, bringing his arm up and wiping it off. “Damn, it’s hot today,” he said, leaning onto the bars of her cell and looking down at her. He smirked, “Daydreaming darling?”

Appoline rolled her eyes, “What would I have to daydream about?” she said sardonically, and she rolled over on her bed. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to rid herself of her goosebumps, “And it’s freezing in here.”

The guard gave her a once over, “Well I can think of some ways to warm you up,” he said lewdly, and Appoline shot him a look. He continued, unfazed, “Isn’t your father some ultra-wealthy, insanely decorated former Major Sergeant of the Army? Why don’t you just give old daddy a phone call and ask him to send you a sweater?”

_Her father._ She imagined trying to give Sergeant Charles Renard, Silver Star, 4x Bronze Star Medal and Purple Heart recipient, a phone call. Telling him that she needed a sweater because she was cold.

She imagined him, in response, mailing her an oscillating fan. And an ice box.

Appoline shrugged in response though and said nothing. Her father wouldn’t send her anything, would never help her out. Not after what she did to Rachel…

A knowing smile crept onto Bill’s face after the beat of silence.

“Oh…maybe daddy won’t take care of you. After, well, _you know_ …” he ended it there, letting the words hang in the air, unsaid, unspoken…but not needing to be. Because they both know what he left out. They both know what she _did_.

“Well,” he started, thankfully breaking the silence that was threatening to consume her like a black hole, “Come on now, you have group. Can’t keep your _partner_ waiting.” A smirk.

Appoline ignored the bait, and they slowly made their way down the hall towards the recreation room. And, making sure she wasn’t being watched, she allowed herself to smile.

* * *

“Alright everyone, so today we are going to start with an activity. This is a pretty common team building activity, and it's designed to focus on your verbal communication and listening skills,” Dr. Higa addressed the group. Appoline shot her eyebrows up at Martin, who smirked and broke out the jazz hands. She grinned.

“So, I want you each to sit with your backs to one another. One of you will get an image, that you will have to describe to your parter without actually telling your partner what the shape is. Your partner will then draw the image based off your words, and then you’ll compare images.” He clapped his hands together excitedly. “Ok! Get to it!”

Appoline smiled shyly at Martin, who stood up as she walked towards him. He was wearing his warm looking beige cardigan today, a quite handsome piece of fashion, and she stared at it in jealousy as she shivered a bit. He grabbed both of their chairs and turned them so they faced back to back, and he gestured for her to sit down. She did so, and she felt a shift behind her, and could feel him _right behind her_. So close, she could feel his back shift against hers _just so_ as he stretched it.

“Nervous?” Martin asked. He could feel her shiver slightly against him. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her, hear her breathing…he looked around at the guards, who didn’t seem to be paying much attention to them at all. Dr. Higa came by to give Appoline a card and Martin a pad of paper and crayon _(no sharp objects for him)_ , encouraging them to begin.

“Of course not,” she answered playfully. She stared down at the image in front of her, a random selection of shapes that she knew would be annoying to have to explain to Martin. She gave a big sigh of frustration. She hated these pointless activities.

“Don’t worry,” Martin said behind her, his voice deep and steady. Her left hand which was hanging down suddenly felt a weight and a _warmth_ to it, and she caught her breath. She felt his thumb gently rub up and down her wrist, gentle and pressing. Appoline looked around to see if anyone was watching them. They weren’t. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Well, she’ll never be ready _now_ , she thought. Appoline swallowed, trying to get her brain to focus even though her thoughts were going a thousand miles a minute. Her heart was beating faster than she could have ever imagined, and she blushed, knowing that his thumb was grazing along her wrist and he could most likely _feel_ that rapid pulse.

Which he could. Martin could feel her pulse speeding up under his skilled fingers and he allowed himself to bask in it for a few moments. It had been so long since his touch caused that kind of reaction in a woman. He wished he could see her face; he imagined the prettiest blush gracing her cheeks and her nose, her mouth open _just a bit_ in breathlessness. Martin groaned internally, adjusting himself in his seat. He gave her wrist one last _squeeze_ , and let her go, and prided himself in the disappointed little intake of breath he heard from her.

It had been _so long_ since he’s left someone _breathless_.

In his darkest thoughts, he wished it was her pretty little neck he was squeezing instead of her wrist.

“A-alright,” she stuttered. Appoline dissected the image in front of her, took a breath, and focused. She couldn’t be an idiot in front of him…she had to _get. it. together._ “Okay, Martin,” she loved saying his name, “Get ready. You’re going to draw a medium sized circle in the middle of the page.”

Martin nodded and began to draw, listening to her explain the image in front of her. He was impressed as they went along, she did a very good job describing the shapes and positions. He was impressed by a lot of things about her; he was unaware that she was as educated as she was when they first met, that she was passionate about working with children _(an_ ** _unfortunate_** _passion that will never come to realization for her, but he appreciated that she had dreams all the same…his ex wife’s dreams involved nothing but spending her days spending copious amounts of money and day drinking martini after martini)._

“And I think we’re done,” Martin announced, finishing up the bottom quadrilateral with a swipe of his pen. He turned around, just as Appoline turned around and she beamed back at him. He noticed she had a cute set of front teeth, just a little bit on the larger side but not too big to look like they were buck teeth… _very cute_ , he thought. So _innocent_.

They quickly compared Martin’s drawing to the original image. A perfect replica.

Dr. Higa, who had been wandering around the room to watch and comment on how the pairs were doing, stopped at theirs, “Appoline, Martin, looks like you two did a good job,” he commented, peering at their work, “Martin. How was it to take direction from Appoline? You had to put all your trust in her that she was describing it correctly.”

Appoline could have rolled her eyes. _That’s right_. Their topic for the month is about control. How “clever” of an activity to put them in.

Martin forced idle pleasantry out, “Appoline was an _amazing_ communicator, how she was able to explain to me where exactly to draw…” he started, his eyes shining mischievously, “It was if she was _right there holding my hand_.”

Appoline made a small struggling sound, but thankfully the doctor must have not heard or ignored it, because he nodded to the two of them and left them to their own devices. She struggled to look back up at the man, suddenly embarrassed more than ever. Another strong breeze of air conditioning blasted against her skin and she shivered violently, rubbing the goosebumps out of her arms. Martin stared at her again.

“You keep shivering,” he commented slightly, his eyes gazing down at the small goosebumps prickling against her skin, “Are you nervous or are you just cold?”

She flushed pink, “I’m just cold.” She picked slightly at her short sleeve white shirt, as if stretching it slightly would somehow provide more warmth. She looked at his cardigan, and back up at him, deciding to give him some attitude, “Some people don’t have a nice, fancy sweater to keep themselves warm.”

“You _poor thing_ ,” Martin cooed, “Nobody is able to bring you in any items of clothing? Surely, you must have _someone—”_

“I have **no one**.” Appoline cut him off, “at least, nobody who will come in to bring me _anything_. I have to use all of the prison’s supplies, which are fucking horrible…”

“I imagine so….never had to use them myself.”

“Well, lucky you I guess.”

Martin stroked his beard, looking at the girl in deep thought, “So what don’t you have?”

Appoline felt embarrassed once again, realizing she must have seemed so petty and pathetic to the man in front of her. She knew that he had _everything_ he could have wanted. Even if he didn’t have family to provide him with supplies, he had made enough of his own money, and gained funds from continuing to help doctors and patients in the area, to get whatever he wanted. He was like a _god_. Even in here, he could get _whatever he wanted_.

“Anything. I don’t have anything…I have a few sets of personal undergarments,” she blushed, and tried to ignore the look she thought _just might_ have crossed his face, “but that’s it. I use all of the hospital’s hygiene supplies, which are all super cheap and made my skin feel _dry_.”

Martin hummed, “Well, we don’t want that, now do we?” his lips curved up slightly, as his eyes traveled down her body unabashedly. “Such _pretty skin_ ,” he whispered, and he looked like he was about to reach out and touch her again. She bit her lip.

But alas, their time was over, and Dr. Higa announced that next week they would all go over as a group their thoughts about the activity and what they learned about their partner. Martin sighed in frustration at the loss of their moment.

“Until next time then,” he winked at her, and his guard came over to escort him back to his room. She sighed, her own guard coming over to bring her back to her little cage.

“Next time…”

* * *

“Rise and Shine Sweetheart,” a voice woke her up, and Appoline groaned, burrowing further under the flimsy covers of her bed. It was early Wednesday morning. _Too early_ , she thought, as she uncovered herself and peaked up at the clock hanging against the wall outside her cage. 730AM. She took a peak and saw one of the female guards who usually came in around this time, one of the younger and more cheerful ones that weren’t yet jaded by the system. Appoline huffed, and covered herself once more.

“It’s too early,” she told the guard in frustration, “I usually don’t have to wake up until _at least_ 9AM. Breakfast isn’t even ready for another hour.”

The guard _(Sasha? Sarah? It didn’t really matter)_ didn’t let up, and she heard the bang of a suspiciously large box on the ground. “Well, I thought you might want to wake up and see what came in the mail for you this morning.”

Appoline bolted up in bed, not caring that her hair probably looked like a rats nest and quickly rubbed the gunk out of her eyes. And sure enough, right in front of the guard was a large delivery box, addressed to Appoline Renard. She stared at it in confusion. The guard gave her an excited, if not _somewhat condescending_ , smile.

“Looks like someone out there cares about you,” she said, and Appoline noticed in annoyance a bit of a southern drawl in her voice, “Did you end up calling your dad or brother for some stuff? So nice of them to do that for you.”

_Her dad_? Unlikely…she hadn’t received a single phone call from the man since she arrived at Claremont. The only time she heard his name since her arrest when Dr. Higa explained that Charles Renard was her legal guardian after her recent incapacitation and trial proved she was legally _incompetent_.

**That** was quite an argument, and no matter how much she cried and threw a fit, she was told that there was nothing to be done and she didn’t get to choose who her legal guardian was. She had wanted Jaime to be her legal guardian, but was met with nothing but pushback and _apparently_ , even though her father seemingly wanted nothing to do with her anymore, he must have gained some sick thrill over being in control over her life because he was unwilling to lose guardianship.

Her _brother_? Perhaps more likely, but she hadn’t spoken much to Jaime since her incarceration either. A few sporadic phone calls here and there, but he never came to visit her or see how she was doing. Although he was constantly being deployed overseas, so she didn’t hold it too much against him. In fact, she hadn’t had _any_ visits since she got to Claremont. Unless you counted the occasional FBI agent seeking more questions about her and Sebastian. Which never got anywhere, because she wasn’t telling them _anything_. Colette Swanson could kiss her ass.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she finally answered, unable to come up with an explanation but grateful no less at receiving anything. She hadn’t received any mail at all…she was almost missing getting a bill in the mail. Well, almost.

“Let’s open it up!” Sasha (Sarah?) said excitedly, and she reached down and opened up the box with her keys. Appoline peered over, gripping the bars in excitement.

The Fed-Ex box opened up to an assortment of products, all beautifully wrapped in pink tissue paper. It was the nicest thing she had seen in a long time. The guard looked up at her and pulled up the opening of the cage, “Here, I’ll let you unwrap them.”

Appoline suddenly felt like a kid on Christmas morning again, and she was so happy that the guard let her open them herself. She reminded herself to be nice to this guard in the future.

The guard handed her the first wrapped item. She took her time unwrapping it slowly, wanting to savor the moment. She wasn’t sure what this was all about, but she didn’t think she’d be getting anything else for a long time.

A shampoo bottle. A huge bottle of some fancy looking brand (Oribe?) that she had never heard of before. She opened the lid and took a sniff, it was _heavenly_.

She continued opening the items, becoming more thankful with each product that she got. Conditioner, body wash, body lotion, a purple loofah, some deodorant, a box of tampons ( **THANK GOD IT WAS THE PLASTIC KIND. NO MORE CARDBOARD TAMPONS FOR HER!)**. Appoline got some beauty products that she was _not expecting_ , as well…some nail polish, a light pastel pink color that was very pretty, and a large, plastic red hairbrush. She ran her fingers down the handle of the hairbrush, gripping the heavy base. _Thinking_.

“Ooh, looks like you got one more item, Appoline!” the other girl said with enthusiasm, and brought over a larger looking package. Her eyes widened and she grabbed it from the guard’s hands excitedly, forgetting all manners in her wake. She tore the wrapping off, and held her breath.

It was a _gorgeous_ long sleeved knit cardigan, a light heather grey color and as she ran her fingers over the material, she realized it was cashmere and just sighed at the beautiful fabric. It felt so lovely and soft, and she knew it would keep her warm. And it was likely nicer and more expensive than any item she had even worn before. Appoline threw it on and positively _glowed_. It was so perfect. And she thought about it, and about the other items, and about how lovely, and perfect, and _expensive_ they were, and she _knew_.

It was from _Martin_.


	6. Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simple Note Today: You're Welcome.
> 
> jK- kinda. I was GOING to start the chapter with Martin POV, but this chapter was getting long already and I didn't feel like I really needed it. We're getting Martin POV in the next chapter instead. Enjoy this though, let me know what you think.

“Today, I want you and your partner to discuss what we call your ‘locus of control’. Now, I know that most of you will feel like everything is out of your control. But really think about it, and think about before you got here, and how it felt versus how you feel now.”

This is ridiculous, Appoline thought, as she was given a piece of paper and a safety pen (which she at the same time both hated and appreciated...it was annoying to write with the stupid thing, but it made her feel better than having to write with a crayon _all the damn time_ ). She looked over at Martin, who was drumming his own safety pen on the table and looking thoughtfully at the piece of paper.

Appoline and Martin were sitting at one of the tables further away from the doctor, in the left side corner of the room. She appreciated the bit of independence....the doctors and psychologists were slowly beginning to give her more privileges which she _greatly_ appreciated. She looked over at Martin, whom she knew pretty much had almost every privilege in the book. He even had some cozy room with all the glitz; he had access to a bookshelf and his own desk and _fucking_ television time.

Appoline wondered if she played nice long enough that she’d get those accommodations. She could play nice.

“This is so stupid,” she said suddenly, throwing her safety pen down on the table and glaring at the piece of paper like it was the cause of all her problems in life. “I worked on ‘locus of control’ shit with my fucking 10 year old students during my internship. This is juvenile.”

Martin clicked his tongue, his hazel eyes searching around the room, “Well, sweetheart, most of the individuals in this room _are_ rather juvenile.” He nodded to Tevin, who was currently starting to get a bit worked up over the activity. He was working with Appoline rolled her eyes, and rested her hand on her cheek.

“Just because we’re stuck in the same room as these idiots, doesn’t mean we should be treated like them.”

Martin hummed, but didn’t respond, beginning to draw what looked like the stereotypical circle diagram for a “locus of control” chart. He must have done this before too, she realized. He was a doctor, he probably had a psych residency at some point in his life. Probably ran a few groups just like this on his own. The thought gave her slight satisfaction.

“So...you’ve been here about,” he puffed out a bit of air, thinking, “three months?”

“Three months, 1 week, and 3 days,” she responded slyly, “but who’s counting?”

He raised an eyebrow, giving a grin matching her own, “Well clearly not you. You don’t even have the hours and seconds down.” He tsked playfully.

Appoline basked in it. The small flirtations. It had been so long since she had been flirted with by someone who wasn’t a disgusting, corrupt guard. She bit her lower lip, “Do you?” she asked playfully.

Martin stroked his beard, “Hmm, not anymore...20 years is a long time to be counting,” he joked, “lost track after about six years in.”

20 years. He had been in Claremont for _20 fucking years_...almost as long as she had been alive. Her heart lurched. Both in sympathy for him, as well as concern for herself...could she been in here for 20 years?

_Sebastian got off easy_ , her mind whispered, a wicked thought. She ignored the devil.

“So, Doctor Whitly, you’ve been here awhile...what would you say is within your locus of control in the confines of a place like this?”

“Hmm well...I suppose I have control over my body. The meds that I choose to put in it, the food put in my body, I’m a vegan now and—”

“ _You’re_ a vegan?” She asked, surprised.

“I’ve been eating the same garbage here for 20 years…being a vegan has given me a lot of _variety_ ,” he answered simply. She thought about the tasteless, grey meat like substances she often got for dinner. Maybe he had a point. She grabbed the safety pen back up and started writing what he said on her own piece of paper.

“Hmm okay, so control over our bodies…food, medication—”

“That’s a lovely sweater on you,” he interrupted. Appoline stopped writing and looked up at Martin, who was staring at her new grey cardigan with a hint of pleasure, satisfaction, and… _was that possessiveness_? She knew he gave it to her. He knew she knew that he gave it to her. She wore it today so he would see that she was using the things that he had bought for her. That she would wear the clothing that he picked out just for her. She blushed, running her fingers up and down the soft material of the arm.

“You like it?” she asked. A very low growl from the back of his throat sounded in approval.

“ _Very much_. It’s keeping you warm?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, it is. I love it.”

“Good.”

And there it was. Both said and unsaid at the same time. It _was_ him. 

Their papers sat forgotten and time seemed to stop as Martin slowly reached towards her arm. Inch by inch, seconds lasted for hours as his hand gently grasped her arm. His own fingers slid down the soft cashmere. She sighed at the light touch.

A bang reverberated throughout the room and brought them back into focus, suddenly and completely aware of their surroundings. Martin and Appoline looked over to find Tevin and Dominic standing up and posturing towards each other. Somehow they managed to block out their raised voices and shouts during their moment and lucky for them, every single guard was paying attention to the two extremely volatile mental patients who were currently throwing insults and veiled threats at each other.

Appoline looked again to make sure her and Martin’s guards were also too caught up with the episode. Sure enough, good old Bill was helping another guard attempt to restrain Dominic, while Mr. David was standing by to help assist with Tevin. Dr. Higa was futilely trying to de-escalate the patients but seemed to make the situation worse, if that was possible. Dominic gave a strangled curse at the doctor and spit in his face. The other patients who were watching the scene laughed.

Martin eyebrows shot up, but he was clearly amused, “I don’t think Dr. Higa expected _that_.” He chuckled deeply, the kind that vibrated in his chest and Appoline couldn’t help but laugh as well. It was infectious, and it didn’t help that the entire situation was ridiculous.

She was shocked again as he grabbed her hand quickly this time, taking advantage of the moment of privacy that they were so graciously given by Tevin and Dominic. But his hands were _warm_ , and _soft_ , and he softly caressed her hand and trailed his thumb up and down her wrist again like he did the other day. Like he was gravity, she felt herself lean forwards towards his touch. She couldn’t _help_ herself.

His fingers brushed against her nails, and he looked down, inspecting them.

“Your nails would look so lovely polished,” he said. She thought about the nail polish he had bought for her. Appoline totally forgot about it, it seemed so insignificant compared to everything else. But he _bought_ it for her, meaning he’d _like_ to see her in it. She nodded her head enthusiastically.

He hummed some more and, giving a quick glance around the room and apparently deciding they were safe, brought her hands up to his lips.

_She melted_. His lips felt amazing against her skin and they were plush, and soft, and warm just like his hands, and his beard felt so good. _That’s what a beard feels like against my skin_ , she thought, and she definitely approved. She could _feel_ his hazel eyes studying her reactions but she didn’t mind. _Let_ him study her. _Let_ him see how much she liked it. She _wanted him_ to know. She wanted him to know how much she _wanted him_.

Hot liquid pooled between her legs and she _fucking_ ached. His eyes glittered at her. His lips left her hands and she wanted to cry at the loss of contact. _No_ , she thought, _more, more, more_ …

Appoline felt the light weight of a crinkled paper in her hand that suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She looked up at Martin, who gave her a small wink and grin and let go of her hand. He nodded down at her pockets and she stuffed the note in quickly, trying not to be obvious as she looked around to make sure none of the guards noticed. It didn’t seem like they did, however, and she breathed a long sigh of relief. Martin looked around once more and leaned forward in his seat, his mouth coming so close to her ear and she could feel his breath on her neck.

“Read that tonight. Before bed,” his voice growled at the end, emphasizing _bed_ , and she shivered violently, “Be a good girl and do that for me.”

Her heart thrummed and her brain and mouth were unable to voice any coherent thoughts but she managed a small nod. He leaned back in the chair, and stared over at the commotion that was slowly dying down. The guards managed to restrain Tevin and Dominic away from each other and were bringing them out of the group room. Martin gave a small shrug, “Fun’s over”, he said, as Tevin was escorted out of the room.

Appoline nodded absentmindedly, as she fingered the note in her pants pocket. No, she thought, her body heating up with fantasies and an itch that could not yet be scratched developed.

The fun was just beginning.

* * *

The rest of the day seemed to go on forever and she spent the day anxiously waiting for it to be nighttime. After group therapy, Bill brought her back to her room and she ate her lunch in silence. He had attempted to engage her in conversation and while she normally humored the man (because she enjoyed the perks of having him think that she _actually_ liked him), she couldn’t focus her energy to give him anything. She ate her turkey sandwich silently and thought about the note in her pocket. What could he have written? He wanted her to read it before bed… _why?_

Even when she was brought outside to the courtyard, she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the fresh air and warm sunlight. Bill attempted to engage her in a round of Horse, but after dribbling the basketball for a few minutes, she found herself too distracted to give it her all.

“Yo, where’s your head at today?” Bill asked her, “You’ve been out of it since group therapy today.”

Appoline stretched her limbs and closed her eyes. She was lying on the small patch of grass to the side of the courtyard, taking in the sunlight. The sun was beaming down at her and warming her cold skin, and she basked in it like a snake under a heat-lamp.

“I’m just tired,” she finally answered him. She opened her eyes to see him standing above her. Appoline glanced around the courtyard, to remind herself of the three security cameras that were attached to each corner of the fences. They were there. She let herself feel comfortable closing her eyes again. He wouldn’t do anything.

But she was surprised when she felt him sit down beside her on the grass. Not too close...about a good 10ft. away and she’d have to lunge over to get at him, but still... _she was fast_. And he was sitting down, exposed, _vulnerable_...she looked at the walkie and the club that sat on his hips. If he wasn’t paying attention, she could take it from him.

No. _She can’t_. Even if she managed to take it and overtake him, she’d have a shit ton of guards to get through and Appoline would end up in deep shit when she was subdued. She’d be put in solitary. And then how would she be able to see him?

It wasn’t worth it. At least not yet. It had only been a couple of months....she hadn’t been received all the privileges yet. Dr. Higa said that he’d been impressed by her behavior so far, and that he’d consider approving her access to the cafeteria and recreation room.

Plus if she left, she’d be leaving Martin.

Appoline realized she really, _really,_ didn’t want to.

But Bill continued to sit on the grass with her and they sat in silence, no sound except the clinking of his keys whenever he shifted his legs. The only movement the slow rise and fall of her chest.

“So what did happen at group therapy to get you all nice and quiet,” he broke their silence, “what did you and Martin Whitly chat about?”

Appoline remained calm and didn’t move a muscle, “Who says it has anything to do with Martin Whitly,” she responded, steadily. “Maybe it has to do with the dysregulated and manic mental patients who had to be restrained and escorted from our therapy session.”

Bill hummed, “Nah. Don’t think that’d get to you. Not like this...he tell you something interesting, sweetheart?”

She wouldn’t take the bait. “You don’t know me enough to know what would and wouldn’t bother me. Besides, in therapy, we’re not supposed to reveal everything that we talk about...that’s basic confidentiality laws.”

He barked a laugh. “Oh honey, nothing in here is confidential, you best start believing that. Someone knows something, and when someone knows something, eventually everyone knows everything.”

“Well, anyway. Just want you to watch out for yourself around him...he’s not as nice as he puts on. It’s all a fucking show with that guy.”

“Ah yes, and you’re just looking out for me. How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he said, “Appoline, he’s killed 23 people...”

She opened her eyes and stared him straight in the eye.

“And I killed six.”

Bill seemed to finally sober up. Whatever drew him to sit next to her suddenly broke and she could tell he was terribly aware of how close he was to her and how it was a terribly stupid decision. Not that she was going to do anything to him. She already decided she’d play nice.

She watched him look down at his wrist watch and his body instantly relaxed. Appoline was so happy she went to school for psychology...she could read his body language so easily. So telling.

“You have about two more minutes and then we gotta go inside,” he said, as he sat himself up and got up. He was careful not to crack his back or groan in pain. She could tell. He didn’t want to appear weak.

“I’m ready now,” she got herself up, brushing the grass stains and dirt off her butt. He nodded and brought her back inside, where she spent the rest of her dayin silence as she watched the clock tick one hour after another.

Tick tock, tick tock.

* * *

“Lights out!”

The hands of the clock had mercilessly finally reached 11PM with a loud click, signaling “night time” for the hospital. The bright fluorescent lights were switched off and she was left lying in her bed, in the pitch black darkness. She had no windows in her room, just blank, slabs of concrete walls and, no for the first time, she found herself missing the simple pleasure of looking out at the moon. Appoline wondered if it was full tonight.

The night shift would be arriving and switching out the evening crew, after about a thirty minute gab session where they all gossiped and talked shit about all the patients. Appoline had, at times, wondered what they said about her, but realized that it didn’t really matter. Besides, if the hushed chuckles that Bill and his inept friends made during the group were anything to go by, she was sure that whatever they were saying wasn’t pleasant. And it certainly wouldn’t make herself feel any better.

She knew some of the things that they said when they thought she wasn’t listening.

> _Oh, that’s her? That’s Appoline Renard?_
> 
> _Yeah, that’s the girl who hooked up with that serial killer in New Jersey._
> 
> _Oh shit, no way. He’s dead right?_
> 
> _Yeah, heard he got taken down by the FBI in some crazy standoff. Connor Johnson took him down._
> 
> _I heard he took him down with nothing but his bare heads, dude._
> 
> _I thought he died in a fire? Wasn’t the home they found them in on fire?_
> 
> _Nah man, that’s just a story....Connor took that asshole down._
> 
> _Well where the fuck was she when all this was happening?_
> 
> _Who fucking knows, probably naked on her hands and knees somewhere waiting for that sick fuck to fuck her._
> 
> _Didn’t she have a clean record before all this shit even started happening?_
> 
> _Squeaky fucking clean dude._
> 
> _Her dad is a fucking war hero._
> 
> _Yo, I heard she killed her own sister.._.

Appoline stopped listening. It didn’t matter what they thought or what they thought they knew. They didn’t _know_ her. They didn’t know why she did the things she did, _why she had to do those things._

Instead, she focused on the crinkled little piece of paper that she had stashed under her pillow when she arrived in the room. It was dark in the room, but not too bad, and she had the cheap little wall night light that she received to use to read it. She’d have to be careful though. The nightshift guards came in to check on her every half hour. They’d open the door to the room and shine a flashlight on her, checking to make sure she was still breathing and alive. She’d have to wait until the second they left.

So she did. The room was too dark and the clock too far away to be able to shine with her dinky flashlight, so she had no idea how long she waited in the dark, but she laid patiently.

Finally, the telltale beeping of the keypad echoed in the silence of the night and the door swung open, filling the room with a bit more brightness from the hall. She held her breath and laid as still as possible closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep. The guard flashed the flashlight in her face and she frowned at the onslaught of light, but didn’t move. After a few seconds, the guard must have decided she was alive and breathing because the door closed with a resounding shudder and she was in darkness once again.

Lightening quick, she pulled out the note behind the pillow and grabbed her nightlight. She turned it on, opened the note, and flashed the light on it to read it.

> **Appoline,** ****
> 
> **So often, I want to say so much to you and learn so much about you, but I’m unable to in the short periods of time that we have together. And yet, those few hours that we have a week to spend together are the ones that I look forward to most of all.**
> 
> **I think it has come to both of our attentions that there is a mutual attraction. I must admit to you, you are constantly on my mind, you wicked thing…and when I lay my eyes on you, your body, your _touch_ , is calls to me. Like a _fucking_ siren.**
> 
> **Sweet girl, I know you feel it too. I know you want me as much as I want you. So every night I am not with you, I want you to read this letter and think of me. I want you to imagine what I want to do to you. What I’m _going_ to do to you.**
> 
> **I want you to do as I ask, and I will be sitting in my own cell tonight, imaging you doing so. I’m already growing hard thinking about it.**
> 
> **I want you to get that hairbrush out. The one that** **_I_ ** **bought for you**

Appoline looked over at the small bucket of hygiene supplies that she was allowed to have in her cell, where she knew the hairbrush lay. She quietly crept out of her bed and opened the bucket carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. She grabbed the large paddle hairbrush, running her fingers down the long, slick, plastic handle. Appoline took it and brought it into bed with her, shining her flashlight back down at the note.

> **That’s a good girl. I know you did it because you are so good like that, sweetheart. Now, I want you to strip. That’s right, take** **everything** **off. I want you naked for me.**

Well she needed to take her panties off, anyway. They were soaked, and she pushed her fingers down her pants into her panties and moaned at how wet she was already. She kicked her pants and panties all the way off, and she spread her legs apart. Her fingers ghosted her slick clit and she gasped for air, barely able to breath. Barely able to keep her composure, but dead set on reading _every. single. word._ , she managed to turn her attention back to the note.

> **I can see every inch of you now. Your sexy stomach, your breasts, your wet little pussy. I want you to roll over on your stomach now baby, if you can. Put your face in the pillow, but I want your ass in the air. Now touch your clit and get yourself nice, and slick, and ready for it. Go on now.**

Appoline rolled over immediately. This position was definitely more dangerous than if she was lying down in her bed, but she imagined this was part of the fun. Part of the _risk_. He wanted her to take the risk, he wanted her to be _exposed_ , _vulnerable_ …her insides twitched and felt herself get wetter, and she moaned. She stuck her ass up in the air, and _reeeeached_ down. Her hands sliding down between her thighs and she rubbed herself. She was already drenched, it didn’t take long at all. Gasping, she took one final look at the note.

> **I want you to take that hairbrush, the one that I got _just_ for you, because I _knew_ you _needed this_ …I knew you needed something to fill your pussy while I was away from you. I’m sorry it couldn’t be an actual sex toy, sweetheart, but this will have to do for now. First put it against your clit and rub it. Get it nice and wet for me.**
> 
> **When you are ready sweetheart, press it in. _Press it_ deep. I know it will feel so good for you. And I know I don’t have to tell you how to _fuck yourself_ , you’re a smart little thing, you’re a _sexy_ little thing, and I _know_ you’ve done this before. But as I write this all I can think about is _my cum_ in your fucking cunt. And I know you’re getting there, and I can see your cunt just clenching and throbbing, and you’re _almost there._ And trust me, I am too, because as you’re reading this I’m surely going to be imagining myself there with you and that I'm the one filling you up. **
> 
> **I’m going to always take good care of you, sweet girl. So put this note down baby and finish fucking yourself with that hairbrush. We’ll chat more next time.**
> 
> **Martin.**

Appoline gave a strangled cry, not caring if anybody heard or if the guard just happened to come in at that exact moment. _Let them see_ , for all she cared. She was moaning into her pillow, her face stuffed into it as she stuffed that hairbrush back and forth into her swollen slit. The wet, vulgar sounds it made pumping into her slickness was enough to keep her going and she imagined it was Martin, drilling into her from behind with a raw, heated force. She buried the handle deep into herself, until the base of the paddle hit her and she _grooaned_ from the hard, heavy force of it.

Time seemed to stop and she had no idea how long she spent masturbating but she finally came, hard, and she shuddered as her pussy tightened, and tightened, and _tightened,_ until it exploded and it hurt so much it felt _so good_.

Appoline let her heart slow down, and she pulled the hairbrush out, tossing it carelessly on the bed and sinked down. She took the note that lay next to her and stuffed it far under the mattress. Slowly, achingly, she grabbed her panties that were stuffed down at the bottom of the bed and pulled them back on. She covered herself with her blankets and let herself relax into her bed…truly relaxed and comfortable for the first time since she arrived at Claremont. Appoline closed her eyes. She would let sleep come easily to her tonight.

Not four minutes later, the keypad beeped.


	7. Telling You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!
> 
> Sorry it has been so long since my last update. My laptop had to be repaired, the entire keyboard stopped working and it took about 5 days to get it back. And then when I did get it back, I just couldn't find a moment of peace to write. 
> 
> I DID manage to get this chapter through though! It's not my favorite chapter, not a whole lot even actually HAPPENS, it's mostly a POV/thoughts kind of chapter. But the next one should be good, and hopefully out sometime next week. I'm seriously missing Prodigal son btw, is anyone else?? March 16th couldn't get here fast enough. 
> 
> Oh, I also give a timeframe in regards to when this story happens in relation to Prodigal Son. It pretty much happens a year or so before the events and will slowly tie into the events in the show (i.e. we will see when Malcolm returns to visit Martin for the first time). 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! Let me know if you have any questions. Also, if you guys are ever interested in doing a Q&A let me know! I used to work at a psychiatric facility which is where I get a lot of my information and ideas from, so if you're ever curious about why I write certain things into the plot or why things are the way they are, please ask!

It was 1998 when Martin was incarcerated, and the careful, composed, well-regarded figure that he had projected out into society had been destroyed for the first time in his entire life. Loving husband, doting father, renowned surgeon…he had it all.

The world was his and **_He had it all_**.

But for the last 20 years, he spent his time rotting in Claremont Psychiatric Hospital. Sure, on the outside he appeared fine, _flourishing_ even. He made sure to keep up the facade to the world though, and he knew that he still looked good. Good enough to gain the attention of a particularly _eager_ young female who had come _just. so. willingly_. into his life.

Martin sighed at how easy it was. Almost _too_ easy…he didn’t even have to _try_.

He _hungered_ for the hunt; for the thrill of finding the prey, the research, the stalking, the charming, the cornering, and, of course, the kill. It had been so long, but Martin wondered if it was like riding a bike. All he needed was to get right back up again.

Of course, he didn’t hold any hostility or animosity towards his son, even though he was the one to ruin his fun. Malcolm was his _son_ , his only son, his prodigy, his _equal_. The boy was so young, and he had always told him to tell the truth, and he had thought….well, how could he _have known_ that the boy would go and tell the police? He had thought he had done enough. The chloroform was _supposed_ to have worked, it should have worked, but it was losing its potency, he had used too much of it, and he should have _known_ it would happen sooner or later.

And honestly, he was just happy to have had his son continue to be part of his life. Well, until he up and left him to join the FBI. That’s something else that he should have known, should have seen coming. The boy had been profiling killers since he was eleven, after all.

It had been nine years since he’s seen his son. Almost ten.

Nine years without _real_ human connection.

Even monsters like him needed it. _Craved_ it.

The true craving, of that deep human connection…that kind that was only created when you bonded yourself forever with another person…well, he had gotten to experience that 23 times. And _damn_ , how he craved number 24.

Normal human connections sufficed in the meantime though. A wife, to lay in bed next to at night. A son to guide, educate, and _mold_. Even a daughter, to read bedtime stories and sing songs and allow oneself to become _just a bit less_ of a monster, even for a second.

Damn, he even missed having colleagues. Sure, he didn’t care much for them at all. But he appreciated them nonetheless. There was something to be said about carving into a human body with people all around you and nobody flinching or batting an eye. Everyone _normalizing_ it, just because they were in a sterile white room in a hospital, and he was called a surgeon by profession.

Martin wonders, for the first time, if his colleagues are now horrified by that fact.

He allows himself to laugh.

But _now_ , he allowed himself to bask in that familiar, nostalgic feeling once again. Before he stalked, and charmed, and cornered his prey. When he found his prey, a lovely, young girl…and **_fuck_** , he didn't have enough of those. Back then, he didn’t discriminate when it came to his prey, he didn’t really care _that much_ , the kill was not a particularly sexual experience for him, it was so much more than that. He didn’t just kill to get his rocks off like some simple, narrow minded psycho-sexual maniac that just picked pretty, busty blondes to mutilate. He had men, women, the old, the young ( _never children, mind you_ ), whites, blacks, Asians…his table had no preference. He was a _liberal_ , after all…he had to treat everyone equal.

But now Martin appreciated the youth and beauty of his new prey. _Appoline_ , what a beautiful name. French, he thinks. Very posh. She had smooth, _clear_ skin…perfect, unblemished. Dark hair, cascading down her back in thick curls. Easier to grab. Dark eyes; large, unblinking, and _unafraid_.

He had wondered how she would take the note that he had written to her. He had made about ten different versions, ripping them apart and rewriting and rereading them until he thought it was just right. He couldn’t have her take it the wrong way. She had to like it. He had one shot.

So when they finally got that moment alone, and Tevin and Dominic had did what they needed to do _(And they would continue to…they didn’t quite understand why I needed that distraction, but they did it just the same. He would have to find some way to thank them later)_ and distracted all of the guards away from him and Appoline. So Martin took the opportunity, away from the watchful eyes of the guards constantly staring down at them, and grabbed her hand suddenly. He noticed that she shook slightly in surprise, but not fear, not disgust…she didn’t seem to _mind._ In fact, it seemed like she _welcomed_ his touch, and it was the first time in _so long_ that someone didn’t shy away from him, or look at him like he was a monster.

Which he _was_. But it was _so beautiful_ to have someone not see that.

To have someone _so blind_.

Before he was incarcerated, he had _everyone_ blind to him. Now the mask was thrown off and everyone knew and distrusted and it made it _so difficult_ to get someone interested in him. Well, someone that also interested him. There were plenty of half-brained patients who were interested in him and would do whatever he told him to do, but getting the Tevins of the world to do what he wanted wasn’t exactly what he was looking for.

He wanted a challenge. And sure, Appoline was taking to him a _lot_ easier than he had expected, but there was something in her that he _knew_ would put up a fight. He had heard what the news outlets said about her, the stories that they decided to share with the public, the six murders that she was convicted for…but there was _more_. More to her, more stories, and more that they weren’t telling the general public.

As Martin lay in bed that night, a few minutes after lights out, he allowed himself to think about the note that he had given Appoline and what she was doing in bed only a few halls away from him. It was _very explicit,_ but he was betting on the fact that the girl would _like_ that.

Appoline, with her naked ass out, up in the air, face down…fucking herself with that _god. damn._ hairbrush that he had gotten for her. He had picked a perfect one too, and he knew she would be getting a good screw out of it. Martin _growled_ lowly, thinking of her crying into the pillow as she was getting nailed from behind. He thought about how he would do it to her himself, driving her small body into the mattress until she fucking _suffocated_.

Martin choked on his lack of breath. His hand had somehow found itself under his trousers and he had begun stroking himself until he was maddeningly hard and leaking.

He let himself give in to that baser human temptation that night. It had been a while, after all.

* * *

Appoline had slept in that morning for longer than usual, and she let herself bask in the exhaustion, knowing it had been a symptom of a good night’s masturbation session. Sarah(?) had waken her up with a plate of un-salted scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon and a fresh orange. She quietly munched on her eggs as she listened to the guard read the newspaper out loud for her. Appoline appreciated that she got the peppy young guard in the mornings, she had sometimes remembered to bring in the newspaper and would read her the local news. Sure, it was a bit mundane, but _she_ didn’t get TV time and had no other source of information about the outside world.

She hated that she had a whole three days to go through before she got to see Martin again for group therapy. She couldn’t wait to tell him that she _very much_ liked his note. That she did what she was told, that she _imagined_ it was him.

Appoline thought more about it as she washed her hair, letting the fancy shampoo that he had bought _just for her_ soak and sud up her hair. She ran her hands down her naked body, stroking it with her new loofah and imagining that it was his hands that were running all over her. She ended up fingering herself to quiet orgasm again in the shower, ignoring the guard as she called over a few times to let her know her shower time was over. Thankfully she had a very patient guard, otherwise it would be a quite embarrassing situation if the guard decided to throw open the shower curtain.

Her weekend was relatively uneventful for the most part. She got to go outside for her hour recreation and she received a phone call from her brother Jaime, who was currently back stationed in Virginia for a few weeks. Jaime said he would do his best to make his way up to New York to see her before he had to be deployed again. And she found herself excited for his company. After her father practically disowned her, he was the only family she had left anymore.

Monday _finally_ rolled on by in a snail’s pace and it was only a couple of hours until she got to see Martin again. She had taken her time, but Appoline had finally written him a note that she thought was a good response to the one that he had given to her. She’d have to be sneaky, she doubted that they’d luck out again and get another distraction like the time before. But Appoline was pretty confident that she and Martin were slowly but surely dropping from the doctor’s and the guards’ radars. After all, they were probably the most cooperative of the bunch.

She couldn’t wait for him to read it.

Appoline blushed as she stuffed the note in her pants pocket. She didn’t know if she was as _talented_ as Martin when it came to writing down her…feelings. But she wanted him to completely, 100% understand that she felt the same way. That she wanted him.

_Really_ wanted him.

Although from his note, she was pretty sure he already knew how she felt.

Bill was walking her to the group session and for once, blessedly, he was completely silent on their way over. No sarcastic comments, no grossly inappropriate little innuendos that she had to smile through. Maybe she spooked him the other day. It wasn’t often that she actually chatted with _anyone_ about her murders. Even during her individual sessions, she did her very to avoid the topic altogether. It’s not like talking about the murders made her feel any better or did anything to help them. It didn’t bring them back to life. What was the point?

_And yet._ And yet…maybe Martin could appreciate hearing about them.

He was an intelligent man. And sure, he was more likely a diagnosed psychopath and narcissist ( _more than likely because she didn’t_ ** _know_** _his diagnosis, but if she had to take a guess that’d be it. Not that her credentials to clinically diagnose people held any weight to it anymore…guess that’s what happens when you become legally incompetent_ ) and had a pension for serial murdering, but who was perfect anyway?

And who was she to judge? According to the doctors, she was just as _fucked_ as he was, even without her borderline personality diagnosis…or histrionic personality, or bipolar disorder, or major depressive disorder, or reactive attachment disorder, or ANYTHING, for that matter.

Psychologists had been crossing off and adding on different diagnoses to her like she was some kind of bad Powerball ticket that they couldn’t seem to get _just_ right. Her latest diagnosis was BPD but who knows…5 months down the line they might decide she’s actually a psychopath as well and then poof! New medication, new treatment method. Her treatment was constantly evolving and devolving at the same time.

_(That being said, as someone who had been formally trained in clinically diagnosing patients, Appoline had to begrudgingly admit that BPD probably wasn’t that far off from being accurate. Preconceived notions about the personality type aside…)_

Besides, she held no qualms about being with Sebastian, and he was another serial killer. And he wasn’t even that _good_ at it. _Entirely_ too fucking messy, he would’ve gotten caught long before he had if it wasn’t for her. She did everything in her power to keep his secret and keep him **safe** and he still fucked it up. Because in the end he was a _fuck up_ , and he _deserved—_

_No._ Appoline would refuse to go down that road again. She left it all in the past and was moving forward. Moving forward with Martin.

Because he wasn’t a fuck up. He wasn’t messy, he was _the surgeon,_ the was clean, precise, neat, perfect…he had only got caught because of his kid.

Because of a _brat._

She didn’t know the kid. It happened twenty years ago so she imagined he was all grown up. Probably around the same age as her, the more Appoline considered it. She wondered if he was handsome like Martin too. If she’d also find him attractive.

Not that it mattered, because she'd probably never meet the man. Appoline wondered if Martin hated his son for what he did to him. They never talked about him, or about Sebastian, or about his _wife_ ( _ex wife….she doubted that the woman stuck by him after the trial. Not like she did with Seb, not like how she stuck by him…and would’ve stuck by Martin._ ** _She_** _would have never betrayed him like that.)_

Finally, Bill and Appoline reached the group session and were surprised to find Dr. Samaha in Dr. Higa’s chair. He was a middle aged doctor who worked only part time at Claremount, coming only in when they needed him. Appoline didn’t care much for him, he was pretty sloppy and didn’t seem to really care about the well-being of the patients. Although she had to hand it to him, there was something refreshing about having a doctor who was so blasé about their lack of enthusiasm and care for the patients.

Dr. Samaha addressed them all pretty immediately and curly when they all arrived in the room. “Alright everyone, obviously Dr. Higa is out sick today. So I’m here in his stead. He didn’t really leave me anything to work with, so just pair up in your usual groups and I’ll be over here if you need me for anything.”

Appoline worked hard to keep her expression neutral as she pondered over Dr. Samaha’s statement. They’d get to talk about _whatever_ they wanted? No stupid activity? No dumb “topic of the day” to try to get through without sneering or besmirching the doctor’s credibility? She didn’t think she would be that lucky, _ever_. None of the other patients really reacted either, but she imagined that it was because they really didn’t care that much. They’d probably treat it like their recreation room time and talk about stupid things like the weather, or sports, or how shitty the food was. Her and Martin didn’t _get_ to use the reaction room. This was a first for them.

Martin and Appoline sat over to the right side of the room were they usually sat and were left mostly undisturbed. She always wondered why none of the other patients tried to sit over in the private area but decided not to question it. After all, Martin seemed not to question it.

In fact, he seemed to be paying attention to literally _nothing_ but her right now, his intense gaze drilling a hole into her very soul and she felt her body catch _fire_. Her chest heaved as she watched him watch her, his green eyes meeting hers as it trailed _slowly_ down, to her lips, to her neck, down, down _, down_. He was making her melt. He was making her melt, and he knew it, and he knew she knew it, and she felt like a fucking idiot.

“You see something you like?” she asked, feeling brave and sassy and sexy. He grinned back playfully.

“Yes, but you already _know_ that, don’t you? Sweet girl.” he added, and she wanted to die, the _fucking flirt_. That was the pet name that he had given her in her note. Martin was being brazen in his cockiness now. His voice got lower and she was certain that she would be the only one to hear, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Ye—yes,” she managed to get out. He was taking her back to that night all over again. To the longing, the neediness, the _complete and utter savagery_ she fucked herself with as she came hard on the handle of a goddamn hairbrush like a _vagrant._

“Good.” Martin seemed pleased with her answer. He leaned back a bit in his chair and stretched his back out a bit. His hands began to stroke his beard as he continued to gaze at Appoline. “And what was your favorite part?”

Appoline choked. “My—my favorite _part_?”

He nodded, a twinkle clearly evident in his eyes and yet he did his best to maintain a serious expression. He began to sound exasperated, as if he was chiding a small child. “Yes, sweet girl. What was your favorite part?”

Her mind was glitching as she tried to make sense of his question, not knowing exactly what he wanted from her. She thought of the night. _What was her favorite part?_

Appoline honestly had no idea how to respond but decided to try to be as honest as possible. “Um. All of it?”

A slightly condescending look fluttered across his face for a brief second but was soon replaced by another small smirk, his tongue dragging across his lower lip as he breathed in a large sigh. Martin leaned forward, close enough that only she could hear him again, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He paused a moment, as if considering something and then looked her straight back in the eye, “I did as well.”

Appoline clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. “I have something for you.”

“For _me_?” he asked, pretending to ponder but smirking knowingly as he continued to lean forward and raised his eyebrows, “Why, whatever could it be?”

Appoline gave an exasperated look but maintained her composure, “I don’t know how to give it to you,” she looked around the room and noticed Martin’s guard staring directly at them, “I feel like we’re being watched more today.”

Martin glanced over at the guards thoughtfully, “Hmm, yes. Well that’s because Dr. Samaha is as meticulous as the Claremont Hospital cleaning standards.”

She laughed. That was to say, he wasn’t very meticulous _at all_. She thought about their freedom of conversation today though, and she knew exactly what she wanted to talk about. And it involved more than her midnight rendezvous.

“I want to tell you.” She managed to get out, quiet, nervous, but sincere.

Martin stared at her with increased interest, “Tell me what, sweetheart?”

Appoline looked around the room nervously. It suddenly felt ten times smaller than before. She couldn’t help but suddenly feel like their private conversation was turning quite public and, although nobody was listening, she felt the need to lower her voice, “ _Everything.”_

And she would.


	8. Everything (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is something that I originally wanted to just put in one chapter. However, as I kept writing, and kept writing, and kept on writing...it ended up being like 13 pages long lol So I figured I'd split it into two parts.
> 
> I am not going to lie, I'm very nervous about how people are going to take these two chapters. There's little to no Prodigal Son reference in it (except the beginning of this one). This pretty much ALL Appoline backstory. I just felt like I needed to post this, get it done, get it out there so we can all finally know Appoline's backstory, so then knowing that we can move forward with the plot. I think it's also important that we realize that Martin now knows (this is basically Appoline reflecting on her past to Martin).
> 
> I hope you like this? If you hate it, I'm sorry, I realize people want Prodigal Son. Not my OC world lol But maybe you'll like it. And if you DO hate it, I'm sorry again, you'll hate the next chapter too because its a continuation of her backstory. But the chapter after THAT gets back into the story. And I'm already starting to work on that.

“I want to tell you _everything_.”

Her words seemed to echo, catching him off guard and yet swallowing him whole at the same time. Appoline looked nervous, he could tell by the way she was desperately trying to slow down her breathing, her hand pressed tightly against her chest like the pressure would stop it. She breathed deeply through her nose, calming herself.

“Okay,” Martin studied her. For the last couple months that they had known each other, their conversations had been practically mundane. Having to follow the conversation topic set forth by the doctor, they hadn’t yet breached the opportunity to talk about more _interesting_ subject matter. But he had been _itching_ to find out, to discuss the things that _really_ mattered. A conversation with another intellectual on their mutual interests.

Well, maybe not so mutual…Appoline had been adamant in the past at expressing she didn't quite feel the same way about her choices as he likely did. A shame, because six is definitely not a number to scoff at. Irregardless of _how_ or _why_ she did what she did, Martin was impressed.

Martin grasped her hands, his large, warm hands encompassing her smaller, colder ones and he applied some pressure, “I want to you to tell me. I want to _know_.”

Appoline nodded slowly, finding her clarity. Her eye contact was unyielding.

“I was only 23 when I met Sebastian—”

______________________________________________________________________________

**2015—**

It was 2015 when Appoline had met Sebastian Napier in a quiet, hipster type cafe in downtown Jersey City and the the beginning of when her entire life flipped fucking sideways, upside down, two corners to the left off the goddamn grid. It was so simple too, such a simple meeting, completely mundane and rudimentary and _normal_. There was nothing to suggest to her back then that she was about to do something really fucking stupid.

But he was so easy to talk to, and was the kind of guy who was instantly likable. And she was single, so she thought, why not give the handsome stranger her number? She wasn’t seeing anybody, her last boyfriend was a disaster but that was _months ago_ , and it was time to dive right into something new.

Sebastian was everything her ex wasn’t. Taller, more handsome, with black hair similar to her own but his features were sharp when her’s were rounder, softer. He dressed stylishly, always wearing a button down and a blazer and never had a hair out of place. So unlike her, whose dark hair was generally left un-styled or thrown up in a very messy bun that she knew no matter how many times she tried to convince herself wasn’t that cute.

He seemed to like it though. And Appoline decided that was all that really mattered, what Sebastian thought of her. She was tired of living with her father, who did nothing but suffocate her and try to control every aspect of her entire life. He claimed to have loved her but she knew he really hated her. She killed her mother after all; she was a murderer from the second she had come out the womb and tore her mother apart. Charles Renard hated her for it and blamed her, he always blamed her, and she was nothing but a cold reminder of the wife that he had lost because as she grew, Appoline practically became her mother’s doppelgänger. A complete reincarnation of her mother’s identical form to taunt over her father with for the rest of her life.

Charles Renard couldn’t let people know that he hated her though. So he demonstrated his hatred towards her in small ways, ways that were often overlooked by everyone around her but her, because Appoline knew, and she could tell. She had two siblings, she could tell his disdain for her from the differences in the way he treated her versus the way he treated Jaime and Rachel.

So Appoline jumped. She jumped forward, didn’t look back, and leaped right into Sebastian’s arms because he was _there_ for her, and he promised the world and more. He was not shy about confessing his love for her.

She remembers the first night they slept together. Appoline had stayed the night in his apartment after he had invited her out spontaneously for drinks. She had awoken in the middle of the night to find him staring at her, watching her as she slept. He gave her a smile and caressed her cheek, looking at her through dark, hooded eyes.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he had said, his fingers brushing the stray curls away from her face, “It’s difficult to sleep with you laying next to me,” he smirked charmingly, his eyes piercing hers through the darkness, “I can’t keep my eyes off of you.”

It had been romantic…at least she thought so at the time. Appoline leaned forward to capture his mouth in a late night kiss and found herself settling into his embrace. He felt protective, his strong, powerful arms wrapped around her and she was lulled back into a thoughtless slumber ( _Four years later, Appoline would reflect on that night and wonder if he meant to kill her. If she had woken up and changed his mind, or spooked his resolve. She would forever wonder…a secret that he took to his grave.)_

Four months later, and their relationship was still perfect. More perfect, if that was even possible, the honeymoon phase of their relationship seemed to go on and on and never end. They moved in together to a small apartment in the city. Even bought a cat together, a mangey-looking, fat grey thing that Sebastian hated but gave in to her mewling and cooing over what he liked to call the “fowl creature”. Every day together was amazing, and even when they had arguments, they always seemed to conclude with the two of them tumbling into the bedroom and engaging in raw, passionate sex.

However, one fateful night would fundamentally and forever change the life path ofMs. Appoline Renard. Sebastian was home late, later than usual…it was almost 9PM and Appoline was getting anxious, the lasagna that she had made for the two of them sitting cold and uneaten on the stove as the hours passed by and he still didn’t arrive. She was lounging by the counter, feeding the cat a piece of the lasagna with a fork when the door bolted open.

There was blood _everywhere._

Sebastian slammed the door behind him, ignoring her cries of protest as he ran into the bathroom. Appoline slammed her fist on the door. “What the hell is going on?!” she cried. “Are you okay? What happened to you?”

Her response was a frustrated groan and more splashing sounds. “Fuck!” he growled, sounding angrier and more out of control than she had ever heard, “ _fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_ …”

“Open this door Seb!” she shouted, continuing to bang on the door, “Open the door, or I’ll force it open myself.” His cursing stopped, suddenly, and silence crept over her like a knife. The door was thrust open and Sebastian loomed over her, his hands bracing against the doorframe and his large figure towering over her own.

He was shirtless. His gorgeous pale chest and neck area was still caked with blood, and as she continued to look over him, she gasped. Four large knife wounds were slashed into his side, gushing out his own blood and leaking onto his pants. He stared at her blankly.

“Can you help me?” he asked. Appoline’s eyes widened in confusion.

“Help you? Christ, what happened Seb? N-no, we got to get you to the hospital!” she frantically searched for her cellphone, “I’ll call 911—”

“ _No_ ,” he grabbed her wrist, “We can’t call 911. No hospital.”

Appoline’s brain was working overtime trying to understand. “No hospital?”

“No,” he guided her into the bathroom and sat on the toilet. He raised his arm, twisting his body to reveal the stab wounds. “The first-aid kit is under the sink. Grab it, and start helping me out.”

She had remedial knowledge of how to fix him, and he knew that. She patched him up the best that she could, realizing he was lucky that none of his major arteries were stabbed. Appoline dressed the wounds carefully, making sure to apply enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

She worked quietly for the most part. “That’s not all your blood, Sebastian.” she said as she cleaned and sanitized the next stab wound. “You can’t go to the hospital and you can’t call 911 or the police,” she looked up at him in the eye. Her heart turned cold. And yet—she felt nothing.

“Did you kill the person?”

There was no arguing, or awkward fidgeting, or feigning grief. “Yes.”

And she left it at that. “Ok.”

He came home later and later after that. Three weeks later, she found a stash of ponytails hidden in a punched-out hole in the wall behind their washing machine. There were already five.

______________________________________________________________________________

**2016—**

Sal DeSimone was their neighbor for the first year they lived at that small apartment. He was a decent enough guy, pretty easy going and laid back….the kind of guy that you’d invite over for a beer and chat about how shitty the Jets were this season.

Even Seb had invited him over a few times. Nothing serious, and they definitely weren’t best friends, but they had gotten along well enough and Appoline didn’t mind it. Sal was usually busy with work anyway, some kind of website designer that worked late into the night and spent most weekends at his girlfriend’s apartment in Newark.

It was March 18th. She remembered because it was the day after St. Patrick’s Day, and the night before, she and Sebastian went out for the first time in a while and got hammered off of quite a few Guinness’s at a local pub. She was greatly paying for that decision the next day with a hangover and a headache that wouldn’t seem to go away. Appoline had expected that Sebastian would come straight home that night since he must have also been suffering, but it was getting late and he still wasn’t home.

Appoline decided not to let it bother her. She was laying on the couch, watching re-runs of Friends and snuggling with the cat when her cellphone began vibrating, a call from Sebastian. She sighed, opening up the phone and continuing to pet the cat absentmindedly.

“What’s up?” she said casually. It wasn’t often that Sebastian called her, _especially_ not when he was “ _working late”_ , but she didn’t think much of it. He was probably calling her to see if she needed anything from the store before he returned home.

“I need you to bring down my spare keys. In my bureau, in the sock drawer.”

She blinked, suddenly interested. She got up, shoving the cat off of her lap and walked towards the window, peering outside. Sure enough, Sebastian’s dark grey sedan was waiting outside their apartment, lights on and exhaust smoking up against the cold March air. He was standing outside as well, looking up at her in the window.

“Spare keys?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She didn’t know of any spare keys, not that he told her _everything_. She knew as much as she needed to know. He responded with an annoyed growl.

“ _Now_ , Appoline.”

“I’ll be right out.” She hurried over to the bedroom, threw open the sock drawer and found the pair of keys. She grabbed them, stuffing them in her pockets and ran down the stairs, outside. She must have taken longer than she realized. Sebastian was chatting with Sal DeSimone, who was staring with interest at his car. She frowned…Sal looked particularly disturbed about something. Seb seemed particularly off-put and annoyed at the other man’s presence, but maintained an over-all calm presence, even granting her with a smile as she walked towards him. Appoline smiled back, and threw the keys over to him. He caught them in his hand.

“Thanks babe, I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving no room for discussion, barely nodding a goodbye to Sal as he swiftly entered the car and drove away. Appoline shrugged at Sal, making her way back into the apartment. She could feel him following close behind her.

“Appoline—Appoline, wait up!” he called for her, following her up the stairs. She ignored him, heading up the stairs quickly. “I need to talk to you!”

She rolled her eyes, heading towards her apartment. He followed her outside of her door. Appoline sighed, crossing her arms, “Listen Sal, it’s really late and I’m looking to go to bed. What do you need?” It was partially true. She was still exhausted and feeling the effects of the hangover from earlier.

He was panting from coming up the stairs, not in particularly good shape. He was clearly upset about something though. “Appoline, something is going on with Sebastian.”

“Yeah, he is probably stressed from work and forgot something at home.” she answered. She began to open the door, deciding that she was done with this conversation. He grabbed her arm, and she frowned.

“Appoline, I thought—I thought I _heard_ something coming from his car. I heard it and when I asked him what the sound was he pretended like he couldn’t hear anything. But…but I _know_ that I heard something, it sounded like a woman crying—”

She huffed, walking into her apartment. She left the door open behind her and he followed her inside, not letting up. She walked into the kitchenette, which faced the living room, and leaned against the bar. Sal followed her and stood across from her, opposite side of the bar. Appoline took a deep breath, her chest expanding and releasing pressure.

“You probably were just hearing the radio,” she answered simply.She grabbed two shot glasses and a bottle of Tequila, pouring them each a shot. Sal took it graciously, leaning his head back and letting the alcohol burn down his throat. Appoline gave hers a tentative sip.

“No. No that wasn’t it. It sounded like he had _someone in the trunk_.” He took the bottle of tequila and poured himself another shot. “Appoline, I consider the guy a friend. And I know he’s your boyfriend, but—”

“Sal, you sound ridiculous. This is Seb. You were probably just hearing things.”

“ **HE HAD A GIRL IN THE TRUNK OF HIS CAR.** ” Sal began to become belligerent, his voice raising to an octave that she was beginning to make her uncomfortable. Appoline frowned. Sebastian was always so careful, and he was smart, and he never…never _did anything_ so close to _home_. Their home… _theirs_.

“Sal, no…” she pleaded. She was starting to get nervous. Her hands felt sweaty. Her migraine was starting to come back. Beating, and beating, and beating at the back of her skull. It was overwhelming. She was being swallowed up whole. She couldn’t breathe.

“You got to get away from him. He’s…he’s dangerous Appoline. Who knows what he’ll do to you.” His words began to blur together, she couldn’t make sense of them. It was if he was speaking a different language. She couldn’t speak, she just gaped at him.

“ _Appoline, I swear_. I swear I heard what I heard. I gotta…we gotta do something,” he stammered, and began searching his pockets for his cellphone. Appoline watched him with horror. He found it, and was awkwardly stumbling about trying to unlock it.

“What…what are you doing?” she asked, watching as his fat fingers began to type in those three numbers. Those three. deadly. numbers. She felt the pressure increasing against her skull.

“I’m calling the police…I-I’m dialing 911. We gotta stop him—”

**_CRACK._ **

The tequila bottle splattered and smashed over the base of his skull, and Sal was thrown back, his entire body flying back and hitting the floor with a huge thud. He gave a soft groan but quickly passed out. Glass was everywhere, and a huge shard was sticking out of his temple and blood was beginning to pour slowly down the side of his forehead.

It was pure chaos that threatened to swallow her up. Time seemed to freeze and Appoline could barely move. Shattered glass had left minor cuts against her own arms and face. The living room was a mess; he had knocked over the barstools on his way down and the slamming force of his body on the ground caused several items to fall to the floor.

Her body seemed to move without her brain’s permission. After making sure the man was truly knocked unconscious, she ran into the bedroom and grabbed a coil of rope that was stashed under the bed and ran back into the living room. She mechanically tied him up, limb by limb.

She dialed Seb’s number. He didn’t answer.

She called again. She knew he was “busy”, but he _had_ to answer the phone. Voicemail again.

“Seb. Call me back, it’s an emergency. I need you _home_.” She clicked the phone off.

Twenty minutes passed. Still no return call. Appoline was pacing back and forth in front of the man. She turned his phone off and set it on the table. Her brain couldn’t focus on anything. _Just keep moving back and forth, back and forth_. The cat began to lick at the blood clotting on his temple.

He began to stir. His eyes fluttered open and she watched as he attempted to raise his hand but was unable to due to the restraint of the rope. He began to thrash wildly, his large body twisting in a futile attempt to get out of the knots. Futile because Appoline tied thousands of knots in her life, she was a _Renard_ …she had gone sailing more times in her life than she could count.

“Stop it.” she said quietly, mechanically. It didn’t even sound like her own voice. It was someone else’s voice. “Stop moving now.”

“Let me go!” he cried, continuing to struggle. No. His voice was _loud_. _Too fucking loud_. Someone could hear, he needed to _shut the fuck up._

_“Be quiet_ ,” she hissed at him. She looked back at her phone. Still no phone call. She growled angrily, pulling at her long dark hair in frustration. The man continued to make noise and she was feeling the pressure start to build up again, harder than before as it pounded, pounded, _pounded_. It was beginning to hurt and she couldn’t get it to stop. Sebastian wasn’t answering her phone call. People were going to hear Sal, if she couldn’t get him to shut up. And then—and then, everything would be gone. Everything that she created with Seb. Their lives together. It wasn’t perfect. She wasn’t happy with what Sebastian _was_ …but it was what he _was._ He couldn’t _help himself_ , he was _diseased._ And it didn’t matter, nobody mattered but him and her. They were the only ones who mattered, in the long run.

So she did it. She had to do it. Appoline had no other choice, no other option. She didn’t even _want_ to hurt Sal. She liked the guy. He was decent enough and had brought them over buffalo wings and Bud Lights and they all swore at the television together to the Knicks games.

She let another sigh of frustration out as she smothered him with her bedroom pillow, applying all of her body pressure as he struggled underneath her until his body slacked. She would have to get new pillow sheets.

______________________________________________________________________________

**2017** —

The rest of 2016 flew by without much upset. Sebastian had helped her clean up the body. She never asked any questions about how he did or what happened to it. He insisted that it was better that she didn’t know and she couldn’t help but agree.

They became closer than ever, however. Something about sharing such a dark secret, one that they both had on each other, seemed to repair the fragile relationship into a thing of glory. They had indulged each other on most nights, getting back into a passionate and wonderful rhythm that set Appoline’s heart and soul on _fire_. It was everything she could have wanted.

In mid June, there was another incident. Homicidium numero 2.

Again, she never _planned_ for it to happen. It wasn’t the _same_ for her, not like it was for Sebastian or others…things just…fell on her plate. And she was a Renard. When things fell on your plate, you took care of it. You handled your shit.

And it was completely stupid and out of nowhere, and completely unnecessary. They didn’t even start the shit, Carlos was a _fucking drunk_ who couldn’t handle his liquor and like a mad dog needed to be put down anyway.

They were at a dive bar in the city, the two of them celebrating a recent promotion that Sebastian had received at work. It was close to midnight but it was a Friday, so they planned on sleeping in the next day. What they had not expected was Seb’s coworker Carlos to be at the same bar as them that night, getting blasted off and running his mouth to the guy at the bar. Running his mouth about some asshole at work who received a promotion instead of him.

It was awkward. And they had decided that they wanted a chill night of relaxation and celebration and, wanting no unnecessary altercations, Appoline and Seb left the bar immediately.

Well wouldn’t you know it, the asshole followed them out of the bar. Stumbling towards them in the middle of the dirty, abandoned alleyway. Her boyfriend thrust Appoline behind him as the man stared going off, running his mouth some more.

“You _fucking freak_ ,” he slurred, glaring at the couple, “Who the _fuck_ do you think you are? You don’t even deserve that promotion. Nobody sees behind your creepy ass but I fucking do, _creepy ass mother fucker._ ” He advanced on the pair. Appoline looked down and noticed a pocket knife shining in his hands. _Fucking god._ She just wanted to have a good time tonight.

The fight broke out without much time for Appoline to react. She looked around the alley and out into the street to see if she could call for help, but nobody was around. She thought about calling the police, her hands fumbling over her cellphone as she watched Sebastian and Carlos helplessly.

_Do not call the police._ That was their number one rule. _Shit,_ she thought.

It was a pretty even fight. She thought that Sebastian would have a much easier time with it, considering that he was taller than the other man and had more… _experience_ , subduing people. But Carlos was strong, broad shouldered and muscular and she could see Sebastian having a harder time than he expected as well. He finally caught the guy off guard, wrapping his arm around his neck in a chokehold and pressing him against his lean body. Appoline crept closer, watching the pocketknife in Carlo’s hand nervously. She _couldn’t breathe._

“Calm down, you psycho fuck,” Seb growled, as he struggled to maintain control. Carlos attempted to jab the pocket knife back wildly at Seb, narrowly missing him. Seb cursed, shifting them a bit to get the man off balance. He jabbed back again and Seb cursed again, this time it briefly slashing him on the side.

One more jab. And it stabbed him in his thigh, and Sebastian flinched in pain, briefly loosening his grip on the man’s neck. He growled in frustration and continued to struggle with Carlos, trying to get the upper hand. Carlos’ hand jolted back for the next stab.

She wasn’t sure what made her do it, or how she even did it. She knew she had good reflexes, but somehow the pressure and fear of seeing Sebastian being stabbed again was too much for her to bare. The arm swung back, getting ready to stab at him once again, and Appoline rushed forward. She grabbed his arm, ripped the knife out of his hand and stabbed, stabbed, _stabbed_ him in the gut until he was slack against Seb’s chest. Blood poured out everywhere and all she could see was _red._ It was overwhelming her senses.

“ _Shit_ babe,” Sebastian said quietly, still holding the man in a chokehold. He looked around the deserted alley and there was still nobody to be scene. He was starting to be covered in Carlos’ blood. He grabbed his keys out of his pants pocket and shoved them in her face, “Bring the car over here.”

Appoline stumbled her way to the car, the pressure pounding in the back of her skull once again like that night one year ago, when she killed Sal. She wasn’t sure how she eventually made it there, her feet just moved her body forward and she didn’t pay attention when she parked the car in front of the alleyway.

She didn’t pay attention when Seb tossed the body in the trunk.

She didn’t pay attention as they headed to their apartment, and showered off the evidence.

She didn’t pay attention as Sebastian kissed her and sucked on her neck and pounded against her in the shower, as the water dripped down her body in a futile attempt to _cleanse her._

Or when he left her sitting in their bedroom, and left to do whatever he did with the bodies.

It just happened. Appoline wasn’t as upset this time, she didn’t really care for the man, but she didn’t do it _on purpose._ It was an accident, a mistake.

She made a mistake.


	9. Everything (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Prodigal Son Day to my fellow Prodigies!!
> 
> So here's the next chapter, the new part of Appoline's backstory. I am feeling really anxious about this and I'm really hoping you all don't hate this lol I didn't get any comments or kudos from the last chapter soooo I'm thinking maybe you didn't like it but who knows. Next chapter will be back to present day and will have PLENTY of Martin. And we will be back into the swing of things. 
> 
> Hope you are all feeling well and are in good health! Good thing about my 3 week break (I work at a school and it's closed for the next 3 weeks...) is that I'll have tons of time to devote to writing....so yay? Coronapolcalypse 2020. Everyone hunker down and read some fanfiction.

**2018—**

Sebastian proposed to her in August of 2018. A beautiful, pear-shaped diamond engagement ring shined brightly on her wedding finger and she made sure to show it off whenever she had the chance. She had a small party to celebrate, close friends and family drank champagne and toasted to the young couple’s bright and glorious future.

Well, except her father. Her father couldn’t be bothered to show up. But he sent a card and a bottle of wine with her sister Rachel and Appoline supposed it was probably for the best. He never liked her fiancé anyway.

Not that he didn’t have a good reason…if he had _known_ about Seb, about what he did, _then_ he’d have a good reason to dislike the man. But no, he just disliked him because he liked her, and anyone who liked her must have had something wrong with him.

To celebrate, they were headed to Maine for a long weekend. It had been a while since the couple had went on a vacation, and Appoline was looking forward to their trip to Bar Harbor. Everything was all planned, even her sister Rachel offered to come by the apartment and feed the cat and clean the litter box while they were away.

It was an amazing weekend. The couple had explored the small New England town, went down to the pier and watched the sailboats drift by, laid on the beaches, ate ice cream, went out to dinner. Sunday morning came around and they begrudgingly packed all of their belongings and drove back home.

—How’s our little Grimalkin?— she texted her sister on the drive home. She missed the cat.

The little dots blinked on her screen and a snapshot of her sister squishing the cat to her face appeared. Appoline laughed, and showed the picture to Seb. He rolled his eyes, muttering something about a “feral beast” and she smiled, texting a heart emoji back to her sister. Her sister texted back right away.

—Finishing up litter box for you so everything is all set when you come home! Can’t wait to hear about your trip! <3 :) — the text popped up. Appoline couldn’t wait to go home and see her older sister. The two of them had been thick as thieves recently, and she thought about it over the weekend and decided that she would ask her to be her maid of honor.

They were texting back and forth for a few hours on Appoline’s drive home, as she lounged in the passenger seat and munched on fries that they got when they stopped at a McDonalds on the way home. The two of them were talking about plans for the wedding for the last couple hours when Rachel randomly stopped texting back. She frowned, annoyed that her sister dipped on their conversation out of nowhere. She sent her a ghost emoji and a smiley with its tongue sticking out. Still nothing.

The car finally reached the New Jersey border when Sebastian turned the volume down on the radio, looking seriously over at Appoline.

“There are some things that I need to take care of before I go home for the night so I’m just going to drop you off at the house.” he told her. She frowned, confused. She wracked her brain for answers and found none. They had been gone for _four days_. What on earth did he need to take care of that he hadn’t before she left?

“Why? What do you need to take care of that can’t wait until later?”

He was immediately annoyed and defensive. “I just got to do something. It’s nothing, it won’t take that long anyways.”

She huffed but decided it was better not to argue. They just had a good weekend. A _normal_ weekend. She didn't want to ruin it already by getting into a pointless fight.

They reached the apartment and Appoline grabbed their suitcases and headed inside, ignoring the curiously concerning speed with which Seb drove off at. Rachel’s bicycle was still parked in the community rack outside the apartment _(they were so lucky that she lived so close by and they could walk or bike to each other’s places)._ She pushed the key in the apartment door and opened the door, happy to be back home and expecting to see Rachel’s excited face smiling as she walked in.

Appoline was greeted with silence and she frowned, looking around the kitchen and living room but finding nobody around. Not even her cat. “Rachel?” she called out, walking around. She checked the bathroom and guest bedroom before making her way down the hall to wear the bedroom and laundry room was. The laundry room door was open.

“Hello? Rachel?” she called, and she walked over. Her world came crashing down in an instant. The pressure in her skull began to pound but this time it was almost overtaken by the sickening nausea rising up from her stomach to her throat. Vomit. She was going to vomit.

Rachel was sitting there on the floor of the laundry room, Their laundry basket set aside with a pile of clean clothes waiting to be folded inside it. The washing machine was moved slightly from its normal spot against the wall, angled away. A box was sitting in Rachel’s unmoving lap. It was opened. And Appoline knew what was inside the box.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood in front of Rachel in silence. She was surprised that Rachel wasn’t moving, that she wasn’t yelling, or freaking out, or screaming. She was simply sitting there, the box that now contained _sixteen_ ponytails.

“I—I just wanted to get some laundry done for you before you arrived home.” Rachel said, monotone, quiet, “I wanted to help you out…”

Appoline stared at her. Also frozen. “Thank you.”

Rachel’s gaze finally made its way to Appoline. Blue eyes connecting with her darker pair, “Are these…are these yours?” she managed to ask. Appoline couldn’t speak. She didn’t think she could say much more without vomiting. Her head shook slowly. _No._

The blonde’s shoulders slacked as if the weight of the world fell off of her shoulders and she breathed a huge, shuddering sigh. She pressed on. “They’re Sebastian’s.” she said, finally. She looked up at Appoline as if to confirm. But she didn't move a muscle.

“Okay.” she said, and it made Appoline’s skin crawl. She had a flashback to when she had found out about Sebastian too…all those years ago. She was brought out of the flashback by a forceful hug, as Rachel collapsed into her and wrapped her arms around her tightly, “Appoline…I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. You…you must have been _so scared._ ”

She blinked. The nausea was starting to dissipate but was starting to become replaced with _something else. Oh God, NO._

“To think…this whole time…he must have been threatening you. And you must have been _terrified_. He _must have_ made you believe he was going to hurt you.” She placed her hand to her mouth, as if to hold back vomit, “Oh my god. You were with _him all weekend_.” Rachel looked up and down frantically, starting to move her limbs around as if checking for bruises, “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

_No. This is all so wrong_. Appoline wanted to pass out. This wasn’t happening, _this wasn’t happening._ Her brain tried to work overtime to say something, say _anything_ …give Rachel any kind of explanation that would make this okay. That would take everything back. That would stop her from doing anything that would _ruin everything_.

“Where is he anyway? Is he coming in?” she asked frantically, as if Sebastian was going to appear out of thin air. She looked down at the box on the floor nervously. “We can put it away. We can hide it, pretend like I never saw it. When he comes in, we will say we’re gonna do a Starbucks run and leave and then call the police…”

_No. Not again. It was happening all over again. Not again, not again, not again._

“He’s…out right now.” Appoline said, mechanically. She stared at the box. There were sixteen pieces of evidence. _Sixteen girls._ Sixteen girls that died that she _knew about and did nothing._

It never mattered until now. It matters now. It matters because she knew. And Sebastian knew that she knew. And Sebastian knew that _she_ killed two people. And that if Rachel told the police about Sebastian, he would go to prison. And they’d never be together. And then maybe he’d tell on _her_ , and she’d go to prison, and then, and then, and then…

“Let’s call the police now then, before he comes back. We can just—”

“Rachel, no…” she tried. And Appoline would forever tell herself, that she _tried._ She tried to get Rachel to understand, to listen, to _stop._ “It’s….it’s not like that. Rachel, I _love_ Seb.”

The older woman didn’t seem to listen though. She _never listened._

“Appoline, you don’t have to worry anymore, I got you. He’s not going to be able to hurt you anymore, or threaten you. I know you think you love him, but he’s a fucking _serial killer._ We got to stop him.” Rachel reached for her cellphone. _Not fucking again._ It was the worst kind of deja-vu and she was going to vomit.

“RACHEL, PLEASE.” She began to cry, and pulled Rachel away from her cellphone. She pushed her away, towards the living room. The older girl frowned at Appoline’s behavior. Appoline was shaking, her hands grasping her hair frantically and was breathing erratically. “Please. Don’t call the police. I love Seb, I really do Rachel, I don’t want to call the police on him…”

Rachel studied her thoughtfully. “If you aren't’ going to call…I am. He needs to be _put down_.” She glanced back at her cellphone. “And you aren’t going to stop me, Appoline.”

It happened again. And when it happened the third time, she realized that she had finally resigned herself to a life where she would constantly have to do this. In order to protect Seb, and to protect herself. That it was no longer a choice for her. That she would do _whatever it took_. Because she’s a Renard. And they did what they needed to do.

She didn’t even hear Sebastian come in. She was robotically watching as her cat began to lick and gnaw at her sister’s decomposing face.

______________________________________________________________________________

The worst part, Appoline realized, as she came home from the funeral, was that even in her sister’s death, her father couldn’t find it in him to give his last and only daughter any attention. Her father wouldn’t even look at her. She was crying, and they _were real tears,_ she _was_ actually very upset about her sister’s death. She had nightmares for weeks afterwards and would wake up in the middle of the night shaking and screaming. And her father refused to console her, or even say one word to her. Jaime had tried desperately to get the two of them to get along but it was a futile effort.

It wasn’t until a month later when she realized why her father was being even more distant than usual. Her and Sebastian were sitting in a small coffee shop on a lazy Sunday morning whenhe tapped her on the arm. She looked up from her cappuccino and he nodded behind her.

“That man has been following us all month,” he said quietly. She went to turn around and he hissed, “Don’t _look_. He’s watching us.”

Appoline shifted uncomfortably, and pretended to be distracted by something out the window, “You’ve noticed him before?”

He glanced outside as well, “Yes. At first, I didn’t think much of it. But this is the sixth time I’ve seen him. He’s been tailing us, tailing _me,_ ever since your sister died. I’ve seen him following me to work in the morning as well.”

Appoline slowly took a sip, “Has he followed you anywhere he shouldn’t have?”

“Not that I have noticed.” He shifted uncomfortably, “I haven’t really _done_ much this month. Figured it’d be better if we both laid low for a little while.”

“Good,” she swallowed. She thought about the situation, “I bet it’s my father. I bet he hired someone to follow us…he has the connections, he hates me, I wonder if he suspects—”

“He has _nothing_ , Appoline,” Seb cut her off, “It doesn’t matter. I can take care of it.”

“ _We_ can take care of it,” she answered.

Killing the private investigator didn’t prove all that difficult. It was also different than all of her other experiences, there were a couple of firsts involved. It was the first time that she had killed someone that wasn’t a stressful, pressured reaction to a horrible situation. It was also the first time that she and Sebastian had killed someone _together._

She had never seen Sebastian work before. The act itself wasn’t necessarily bothersome, although she found his cleanup method unnecessarily gruesome. They got rid of him fairly quickly and without much flair. Neither of them had any great desire to kill the private investigator ( _Jordan Smith, if she remembered his I.D. correctly)_. But they had to do it, and before they killed him the man confirmed her fears. Her father had indeed hired the investigator to tail Sebastian, because her father suspected his involved in the death of Rachel.

After the private investigator, everything started to fall apart and that was truly the beginning of the end. They thought they could move past it, and moved into a small little house in the suburbs, thinking that a change of scenery would spice things up. But for the next month, Seb started to return home later and later, seemingly going back to his nightly rituals which frustrated Appoline to no end. Her father just hired someone to _tail_ them. And he thought it was a smart idea to start back up again.

He was becoming more and more frustrating by the day and the honeymoon period was starting to wane. Their nightly romps were becoming scarce and Appoline found herself increasingly resentful of the man.

Seb was out later than usual one night. It was a Saturday, but he should’ve been home. It was 3AM. Frustrated, she ran into their new laundry room and shoved the washing machine out of the way. She grabbed the box that was hidden in a new hole. She was going to destroy his _dumb fucking treasures._

Appoline frowned as she opened the box. There was a cellphone.

It wasn’t Seb’s. And it wasn’t hers. She grabbed it and turned it on, greeted by a picture of a pretty, young redhead, smiling innocently back up at her with some fluffy kind of dog in her arms.

‘ _Why the fuck does he have this girl’s cellphone?’_ was her first thought. She brushed the thought aside, it was _pretty fucking obvious_ what he was doing with her cellphone. And she was likely the reason he was still out at 3 in the goddamn morning.

The next thought sent chills down her spine. _‘Why the fuck doe she have this girl’s cellphone IN OUR HOME?’_. She dropped the cellphone as if it bit her.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_. He was _so fucking stupid_. She looked at the battery and it was nowhere close to dying. It still had 60% battery left. DAMN IT. There were about 5 missed calls and 10 texts that were unanswered. Seb must have taken her tonight. From the looks of it, a few hours ago. Most texts and missed calls were from some guy named Ryan. She cursed; it had a pin code. She turned it back off quickly, but realized she was already fucked. They could track it back to their house. _It was in their home._

She immediately called Seb. It went to voicemail, but she called, and she called, and she called until he finally picked up. “ _WHAT?”_ he bit out, clearly annoyed that she was apparently _interrupting_.

“You **_dumb fuck_** ,” Appoline was pissed. “Why _the fuck_ is her cellphone in our house?”

For the first time in a _long_ time, probably since he first told her that he had killed someone, he was silent. She appreciated the silence because it meant that he had realized that he was being a fucking idiot. Appoline felt the power dynamic shift and basked in it.

“The cellphone can be tracked to our house, Seb. What were you thinking? There’s someone looking for her.” she pinched the bridge of her nose, “You need to come home. _Now._ ”

“I’m…I’m kind of caught up in something at the moment,” he stuttered.

“Well get un-caught. I need you here. Finish what you’re doing and _come home._ ”

He was silent for a second but he finally agreed. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”

Seb was home sooner than expected. And he was a mess, his dark hair tousled, his shirt a wrinkled, bloody mess. He looked more wild and unkempt than she had ever noticed before. He looked like a man who was just interrupted in the middle of doing something he was very much looking forward to doing. Frazzled, unhinged, chaotic. So much different than what he usually looked like when he came home; relaxed, steady, stable.

Appoline inspected him, “You look like a goddamn mess.” He huffed, brushing past her and headed to the laundry room. He opened the box and took her cellphone and turned it on. He pressed a few numbers into the screen and the he had access. She put her hands on her hips.

“You had her pin? _This whole time?_ ” she hissed. He scrolled through the phone until he found what he was looking for.

“No. She just gave it to me.” They began reading her text messages together. Most of them were panicked messages from the girl’s boyfriend, wondering where she was and worried that he lost her ‘in the crowd’. Appoline glared at Seb, wondering where the fuck he picked the girl up from, but didn’t bother asking, knowing it wouldn’t help. Finally, they scrolled down to the last text. It was sent over a half hour ago.

—I found your location on Find My Friends. I see where you are, I’m heading there now. I called Johnny, he’s going to follow me shortly and he’s alerting the rest of the police department. Hang tight sweetie, we’ll be there soon—

Appoline _glared_ at Seb. He screamed and threw the cellphone across the room, breaking it against the wall. She was about to scream as well when a knock at the front door distracted her. She looked over to Seb, who was staring at the door.

“Hey!” the knocking continued, getting louder and faster, “I’m looking for Jennifer Shaw. Did she come by your house?”

“ _Jesus Christ,”_ Appoline said scathingly, as she stalked over to the kitchen counter. She grabbed the steak knife and stalked over to the door, swinging it open. A handsome man with freckles and dark hair was standing there looking as confused as possible, his hand held up like he was going to knock again. She grabbed him by the collar, pushing him inside and he stumbled forward. She whipped him back around and slashed his throat.

It was disgusting. Blood gurgled out of his mouth and his throat opened up, and blood began to _pour_ all down the front of his body and onto the floor. His body fell forward into the puddle of it. She looked back up at Sebastian, who stared at her with raised eyebrows and a surprised expression. She gave him a look and glared, throwing the knife on the ground.

“Well, we are fucked anyway.” She stared down at the body with her hands on her hips, “How long until you think the police come?”

Sebastian whistled, “I don’t know…soon I expect.” Appoline bent down and began to drag the body. He watched her with confusion. “Help me get him to the bathtub. We still have time to figure this out.” He grabbed the legs and they dragged his body down the hall, trying to ignore the trail of blood that led a path directly to where he would be.

“Babe, this is pointless. Maybe…maybe we should go. Leave and go somewhere….”

“Go _where?_ ” Appoline shouted, “There’s nowhere to fucking go. They can track us Seb. They will find us no matter where we turn. We don’t _have_ any options. Maybe…maybe if the police come, we can say that we invited the girl over for drinks or something. That she left with the guy, and they’re gone.” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, thinking.

“It’s not going to _fucking work!_ ” he shouted back, gesturing to the blood all over the floor, “How the hell are we going to explain _that?”_ She huffed and ran to the kitchen, bending down and grabbing cleaning supplies. Seb rolled his eyes at her, “Oh, GREAT IDEA. PERFECT APPOLINE. THAT’S REALLY GONNA GET US OUT OF THIS ONE.”

It didn’t work. The first police officer came by himself minutes later, knocking on the door. When he threatened to break the door open if they didn’t open it, Seb opened it, and _of course_ there was still blood all over the floor. The police officer cursed wildly and jutted his pistol towards Seb. The two of them were able to subdue him and get his gun away from him. Appoline shot the officer. The gunshot reverberated with a loud bang and she was pretty sure their neighbors would be able to hear it.

The police sirens blared down the road, screaming an impending doom.


	10. The Wheel Turned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! I really wanted to get this done by Monday but I was only about a quarter of the way done with this chapter and really wanted to give you all a good one.
> 
> So I had the dilemma of either splitting this up into two chapters, or have just one GIANT chapter. This is a longer one for sure, typically with this amount I'd have split it up into two chapters. BUT considering what happens at the end of this chapter...and since it's the TENTH chapter and I felt I HAD to do something special...welll....you are gifted with a long one lol
> 
> ALSO, HUGE SHOUT OUT to the lovely RayOfDawn who made this mood board for Pearls Before Swine that I shared in the beginning of this chapter. I LOVE IT. I always appreciate things like that since I'm not very tech or design savvy myself. You're the best! 
> 
> Also hoping all of my fellow Prodigies are staying safe and feeling healthy during this time. <3

**Mood Board Design by: rayofdawnworld (Tumblr)/RayOfDawn (Ao3)**

* * *

No matter how many times Appoline told the story, it never failed to create a sensation of nausea in the pit of her stomach and she was starting to feel hot and sweaty. The pressure was slowly pounding in the back of her head again, as if mocking her. She closed her eyes, frowning, and commanded the pounding to go away. She had to concentrate.

She opened her eyes slowly and looked at her group partner’s handsome face. _So handsome_ , she thought, as she took in Martin’s features. Appoline watched the man’s expression carefully, looking into his eyes as if they would hold all of the answers.

And now he knows _everything._ What would he think of her? Would he think she was pathetic? Desperate? Would Martin think she was weak? That she should’ve done _more?_ Or less? Would he be impressed by her? Or disgusted? From her past experience, she had mostly been received with an even greater hatred or disgust than they had before. She had naively thought that _maybe_ she could have gained some sympathy…after all, she didn’t ask to date a serial killer, it sure wasn’t what she was expecting when she got into that relationship. And the murders were ALL HIS FAULT. But of course, Collette Swanson slapped her hard with first-degree murder charges and the name co-conspirator with all of Seb’s other murders and that was that.

“Nobody…nobody _understands_ , Martin…” she said softly, looking at the other man helplessly. Because nobody had understood, not the doctors, not the therapists, not her family…

He grabbed her hand, “ _I_ understand,” he said finally, his thumb smoothing over hers, so warm…her body was clearly deprived of physical contact with another human because it felt _so amazing_ , “I understand Appoline.”

She breathed a huge sigh, “How…how could you? You don’t, nobody does, and I—”

“You did what needed to be done.” Martin said finally.

The nausea started to fade, the pressure waning, “I—I did.” she stuttered. Her heart fluttered, it felt insane and crazy like it was beating a thousand miles a second and she thought it would be torn apart, “Yes. Yes, that’s it!”

A charming smile widened, “Of _course_ , it is sweet girl.” He cooed, “You were faced with a horrible situation and what _else_ could you have done?”

The pressure completely disappeared. It was like she was injected with morphine, his words shooting straight into her bloodstream like a drug that she needed _more of._ His reassurance, his words, that at times felt somewhat condescending but were at least _real, truer_ than the platitudes and falsities given to her by doctors, and therapists, and staff. And she believed him, she believed that he understood her when nobody else did. Because how could she not? It was him, or it was nobody.

The wheel turned. The cycle began all over again.

* * *

Mr. David finally opened the door to Martin’s room to let his visitor know that visiting hours were over, and Martin sighed in relief, leaning back in his chair. It's not that he didn’t like having visits from his former patients, or his colleagues…in fact, he enjoyed it very much. He indulged in the fact that he was still relied upon and respected in the medical community enough that he was needed for consultations. He enjoyed rubbing his doctors’ noses in it as well, making sure to remind them during every doctor’s visit or therapy session that _yes, you may be_ _my_ _doctor but_ ** _I’m_** _still considered one of the most renowned surgeons of the 21st century, and_ ** _I’m_ **_the one with hundreds of consultations lining up to ask for_ ** _my_** _opinion._

But he wanted to get it over with today because he was looking forward to his privacy tonight. He had the note that Appoline managed to slide over to him at the end of their group therapy session in his pocket, and was looking forward to reading it. He remembered how she blushed wildly as she handed it over secretly like a naughty schoolgirl passing a note in class.

“I can bring in the television for you Dr. Whitly before lights out,” Mr David noted, looking up at the clock to check the time. Martin considered it and nodded.

He listened absentmindedly as his daughter Ainsley recited the evening news, not really paying attention to what she was saying. He laid back in his chair, thinking about his conversation with Appoline and everything that she had revealed.

And it cemented the opinion that he had already had about her. She was _glorious_.

He was a bit surprised at how unstable her life had been and expected her to have a larger role in her boyfriend’s murders than she revealed to have had. Unless she lied, but he didn’t think that she did…intuition told him that there might have been some _omission_ of some details, but Martin was certain that the girl had told him the truth regarding most of the stories.

The newspapers and talk shows and CNN reports described the girl’s involvement in her boyfriend’s murders as a Bonnie and Clyde sort of situation, a co-conspirator that took part in the killings. But as it happened, that was not _precisely_ accurate.

It was clear to him that she was someone who would be easy to manipulate. Martin chuckled as he thought about it, _for fuck’s sake,_ she even _killed_ for the guy. Without the man even needing to push her towards it, without any encouragement or threats, she did it _on her own accord._ And it sounded that killing had become almost second nature by the end of it, and he wondered what she would have been like and would have become if they were never caught. _How many more names would she have added to her list?_

Martin had already knew she had killed her sister before she told him, it had been a huge new story and he remembered watching her father on television as he talked about the case. A tallbroad-shouldered man in his late sixties, with balding blond hair and grown out, bushy golden whiskers. He didn’t look much like his lovely Appoline, so Martin surmised she must have taken after her mother. But from what he could remember from the new stories and the small clips he had witnessed from her trial, her father and his lawyers had basically slaughtered her in the court room, and not even her defense lawyer could do anything to save her at that point.

He was surprised though. The neighbor and coworker were one thing, it would’ve been easy for Appoline to justify their deaths. But her _sister_? Now that was an entirely different monster. Sororicide was an uncommon enough occurrence. An unplanned murder, completely off the cuff, brought on by _sheer desperation_ and resolve to protect that incompetent boyfriend of hers…how remarkable.

And her boyfriend was incompetent…Martin was completely unimpressed. He had a positive opinion of the man before she had shared her story; after all, he had _almost_ reached the surgeon’s numbers, which was no minor feat. _Almost_. It was clear from her narration that the man was a disaster waiting to happen and the fact that he had remained undiscovered for so long a matter of sheer luck. Well, sheer luck and Appoline’s determination. It was clear that she was the driving force behind his concealment. After all, the man had done a piss poor job concealing it from what it sounded like the very _beginning_. Only by the good grace (oh, the irony) of Appoline was he able to manage it for so long.

Pathetic. He managed to hide his victims for a much longer span of time…

It was amazing… _she_ was amazing. The man was so fucking lucky and he hadn’t realized it, hadn’t taken advantage of the fact that he was with someone who he could be honest and open with, not having to hide it from the world, from the woman who laid in bed next to him. _If only…_

Martin let himself imagine what it might have been like if Appoline had been his wife instead of Jessica. A woman by his side who was _so unquestionably and unconscionably loyal_. What would she have done if she had found out he was the surgeon? Jessica would never have stayed loyal, would never had shut her mouth about it and went about her business…no, she was too sensitive, too well-adjusted and normal. But Appoline? It was so clear that the girl was _so desperate and starved_ for love, for a family, for a way out of her _miserable existence_ that she would do anything to cling on to the first person who had shown her any semblance of love.

A humorous little picture of her bringing him tea down to his workroom as he dissected his prey flashed quickly through his mind. Perfect little housewife for a serial killer, indeed.

Time winded down and eventually it was bedtime, in which Mr. David said his just polite enough goodbye and retired for the night, leaving him in the care of the night crew. He waited for some privacy and he opened up the note that Appoline had wrote for him. His eyes scanned her messy scrawl and his pupils dilated in pleasure. Such _filthy words._

And not only that…but words that indicated that the girl was falling. And that she was already **his**.

“Oh, _sweetheart,_ ” he murmured, as he palmed himself under the waistband of his pants and gave a small groan in pleasure, his dick becoming hard and leaking, “Such a good girl…”

* * *

More note passing continued for the pair. Appoline had begun to feel as if she was once again in high school and was constantly worried about getting caught, but the longer it went on for, the more incompetent she realized that the staff truly were. Their notes were of many topics, ranging from discussing the gossip going on in the Claremont ( _Martin believed that her guard Sarah and Dr. Samaha had something going on, who would’ve GUESSED?)_ , to discussing their past lives and family ( _Martin enjoyed talking about his son very much and would tell her stories about Malcolm. She didn’t mind. It clearly made him happy, and if he was happy, she was happy…)_ , complaining about the group and the hospital food and literature, and always confessing their feelings towards one another. Things that couldn’t always be said during their scheduled group time, when eyes and ears were on them.

And Dr. Higa had been more of a hoverer as of lately…it was beginning to bother her but she knew better than to complain.

Martin had expressed his concerns in their notes about the staff being able to find them. After all, the staff did random bedroom checks when they were otherwise out of them room for group therapy or outside reaction time. They looked for any form of contraband: shivs, untaken pills, silverware and yes, even notes. He advised her to rip the papers up and flush them down the toilet. Which she did…to mostly all of them. She kept the first letter he made for her. Because it was _special._ But she hid it really well, and was certain that nobody would find it.

It saddened her to think that he was ripping up _all_ of her letters to him, but there was nothing to do. Martin was right of course, and he was a pragmatist. She couldn’t fault him for that.

More recently, their small note conversations had evolved to trying to figure out a plan so that they could see each other outside of just group therapy. It was becoming unbearable to wait to see each other for only twice a week. Appoline couldn’t handle the anticipation and would spend the weekend thinking about what she wanted to talk to Martin about the next time she saw him, how she would hand him the note, what might she be able to do during the group…they’ve had small caresses and he’d whispered in her ear and she felt his breath hot on her neck but it _wasn’t enough._

She asked if he had ever come up with an escape plan. After all, the man had been in Claremont for almost twenty years…he must have been hatching _some_ sort of idea in his head during that time. Alas, every escape plan that he had thought of had been attempted in some manner of fashion before him. Hell, someone tried to escape from Claremont _at least_ two times a month…even more in the winter months. And as of yet, nobody had been successful. Say what you wanted about the guards, they might have been incompetent at most areas of their jobs, but they did a fine job keeping the prisoners under a tight lock. Getting out of their individual cells would be one thing…managing to get through the hundreds of security staff and the million dollar security system to the outside world was another ordeal entirely.

Martin didn’t think they necessarily had to escape in order to spend more time with each other either. And in the meantime while they tried to come up with a better escape plan than they had thought of before, he suggested that they attempt to create a scenario in which the two of them would be able to have some privacy for themselves.

“Well that’s all well and good, but when are we _ever_ given privacy?” Appoline muttered, crossing her arms to her chest in annoyance.

Martin raised his an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with a glint of mischief and he smirked at the girl, “I can think of _one_ place…”

And so that is how they came up with the idea that they would make a plan to meet in the shower facilities. During Martin’s showering block time. Being that they were higher risk prisoners, both had individual shower times and only had one guard on them at a time. Appoline would have to be able to get her guard to bring her to the shower facilities during Martin’s shower time. Difficult, but not impossible.

Appoline had her morning showers at 930AM. Martin was on the nighttime shower shift at 7PM. She would have to convince a guard to let her shower at that time…to _break the rules_.

Which wasn’t particularly problematic in and of itself. The guards at Claremont played loose and fast with the rules, and Martin explained to her that he was able to buy his way around most aspects of the hospital. They pondered about the possibility of doing that, which guard they would bribe. But even Martin had to admit that what they would be asking for was well above most guard’s pay grades and any guard would be risking a lot for the pair. It was one thing for a guard to slip in some cigarettes or pills or even porno mags (and yes, Martin confirmed that was a thing that he knew of the other inmates trading for) for the inmates…it was another to help two of them sneak around the hospital to _bang_.

But if Appoline could _convince_ a guard that she absolutely needed a shower during that time…that is was absolutely imperative, she might be able to get her way inside. And then it would be a challenge of being able to creep across the shower facilities into his stall without being caught. And then—

_And then_ , she thought dreamily.

Even if they got caught, the thrill of trying out this little adventure would be _well worth it._

She would have to convince Bill, she decided, after she reviewed all of her options and possibilities. She considered Sarah for a moment, since she is someone who is highly sympathetic and could possibly get her to bring her to the showers, but the second she saw Martin’s guard she’d be spooked. No, she would need someone who had no problems going against the rules and being caught going against the rules. Bill didn’t give a fuck what anybody thought about him, and men like him seemed to flourish in these kinds of jobs. She asked Martin what he thought and he agreed that was likely their best option.

Friday evening rolled around and Appoline sat in her bed, bouncing her leg up and down as she thought about what she would have to do in order to convince Bill. She had two ideas, one much more unpleasant than the other, and she only had about an hour or so to decide before her current guard was switched out and Bill came in to check in on her.

The clock continued to tick down and down, getting closer to that 7PM time. Martin and his guard would likely be heading over to the shower facilities soon. She looked up: 6:43PM. Bill should be heading in any second. She took a breath, shoring up her resolve.

And stuck her finger down her throat.

She gagged instantly, feeling the nausea and heat creeping up her face as she started to feel sick and she continued to push her finger towards the back, hitting her trachea. She vomited profusely, all over her shirt and her pants and her hands. She gagged, the smell hitting her nose and without thinking brought her hand to her forehead to stop the nausea. It made it worse though, and she continued to throw up all over herself.

A few beeps later and the door opened to reveal a throughly surprised and instantly disgusted Bill. He frowned, making his way over to her and immediately blocked his nose.

“ _Christ_ , girl,” he muttered, taking her in and cringing as he noticed the puke covering her entire body and hair, “You couldn’t have made the toilet?”

Appoline gagged again, and she held back the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes. “I didn’t make it in time…”

Bill whistled, “Well you're a fucking mess,” he made a gagging sound and blocked his nose again, “Next time try to make the toilet. Do you feel like you’re sick with a stomach bug?”

She shook her head forcefully, but regretted it as it made her feel even more nauseas “No, I think it’s whatever I had for lunch.”

“Damn,” he muttered, looking her over. She started to tear up.

“You have to bring me to take a shower,” she started crying, and he immediately shook his head.

“You know I can’t do that, you can wait until morning—”

“I can’t sleep in my own vomit, Bill!” she whined, “I _need_ to shower.”

Bill began to shuffle awkwardly from foot to foot, “There’s nobody here to take you, all of the female staff are gone for the night…”

“You can take me,” Appoline said, making her way towards him. He backed off a little, repulsed by the scent, “ _Please_ , Bill. Just bring me to the shower facilities to wash off and change my clothes. That’s it.”

He looked at her for a moment, and it seemed like he was going to deny her again but he eventually nodded and started to fiddle with his keys. She could’ve cried in delight, _thank god this wasn’t for nothing_. She looked up at the clock, 6:57PM. Perfect timing.

  
They grabbed her hygiene products, a towel, and a change of clothes, and set forth towards the shower facilities. Fortunately for the two of them, most of the hospital was pretty shut down by this point, all of the patients in their rooms and the guards assigned to them with them. Dinner was over for everyone by 6 at the latest and recreation was done, and all of the therapists/doctor appointments were scheduled in the morning and afternoon. Appoline figured that Martin’s shower time was one of the last things scheduled for the day, in an attempt to have him cross paths with as few staff and patients as humanly possible. To which Appoline was grateful for, because it made this a whole lot easier when there were less witnesses.

Bill opened the door to the shower facilities to hear a shower going and to see Mr. David sitting there on the bench, scrolling through his cellphone. Mr. David jumped in surprise when he saw the duo, immediately throwing his cellphone _(which Appoline was certain he was not supposed to have in Claremont)_ in his pocket. He whistled when he saw Appoline’s form though and nodded in understanding to Bill.

“Rough night huh?” Mr. David said, looking her over and trying not to obviously cover up his nose as well. Well at least he tried, she thought. “She can shower over in the East side of the wing, have her use one over there.” He pointed to the far side of the room, the furthest distance from where it sounded like a shower was currently going off.

Bill nodded and he proceeded to untether her and take off her handcuffs. She sighed in relief and rubbed at her wrists. He gave her the towel, her clean uniform, and the hygiene bucket and nodded over to the far side, “Off you go. Make it quick.”

Appoline nodded and proceeded to walk over towards the side of the shower facilities, her heart thumping in excitement and nerves. Could she actually do this? Would they be able to go through with it? Or was it all for nothing? Now that she was actually in the moment, Appoline realized how the plan was a lot more difficult than they had imagined. How on earth would she be able to run over to see Martin without either of the men noticing?

She stripped herself of her dirty clothes, and turned on the shower to blazing hot. Well, she had to actually shower now anyways. Appoline immediately brushed her teeth, getting the gross taste out of her mouth. She washed her hair with the nice smelling shampoo and conditioner that Martin got for her, and then her body with the body wash. She ran the loofah over her breasts, cleaning herself and letting the soap run down her body. She closed her eyes, relishing the sweet smell and allowing herself to relax for a moment.

She wasn’t able to relax for very long though before she heard a loud bang outside of the shower room and a series of shouts, along with Bill cursing. “Fucking Christ, _what now_ ,” Bill shouted, and she listened closely, “Goddamnit, McCarey got out of his cell _again_.”

She could hear walkie-talkies on their hips blaring off, calling a code green and asking for backup relief immediately. Appoline held her breath in anticipation.

“You go out,” Mr. David responded, “I’ll stay here with the two of them.”

It was the moment. She briefly wondered if this was something that Martin had devised without letting her know, but she pushed all thoughts down as she realized that it was now or never. She heard the two men continue to talk and the locking sound of the door opening and she grabbed her towel, wrapping it around her body, and ran near the back of the stalls, towards where she believed Martin would be.

Her bare feet skidded quietly on the tile floor and finally found the source of the sound of running water, and she walked carefully towards the shower.

Her heart was thumping wildly and her throat became dry, and for the first time in a long time, Appoline felt so unsure of herself. She couldn’t believe this was _happening._

Her hand grasped the shower curtain slightly, her hand shaking and she felt a force from the other side grab the curtain as well and pulled it to the side.

Appoline flushed darkly as she was suddenly face to face with Dr. Martin Whitly, whose dark eyes were gazing down at her smaller form with mischief. His curls were wet and pushed back, and she stared as the water dripped down, down to his broad chest with its attractive amount of dark hair scattered across, down his soft abs and hips, where her gaze eventually landed on his half erect cock and her blush darkened. He chuckled deeply, a low, attractive baritone that sent heat down to her belly as he caught her looking. She smiled awkwardly, unable to say anything due to the heart beating wildly in her chest.

Martin stepped towards her, cutting the distance between the two of them and reached out to her. His fingers danced across the side of her face and he grabbed her chin, and she leaned into him, “I would have liked to undressed you myself,” he stated lowly, as his eyes gazed down her form. She was still covering up with her towel wrapped around her body. “But this will do.”

His fingers left her chin and he caressed down her neck, until he reached where the towel covered her breasts. His eyes never left hers as he pinched it slightly, but not hard enough to tug it away, as if testing her. When she didn’t complain, Martin tugged the towel away and tossed it to the floor beside them.

“Mmm…” he hummed lowly, his eyes tracing every single curve of her body. He moved closer to her until they were chest to chest, and Appoline froze as she felt his hand upon her back. He forced her smaller body forward as he guided them back into the shower, “Join me sweet girl.”

She gasped, overwhelmed with sensations. The hot water poured down her back as she felt Martin pull her to him, every part of their bodies touching each other. She felt every part of him, including the hardening erection that was stabbing against the inside of her thigh. Appoline knew he must be able to feel her heart pounding against his, and she willed herself to calm down.

“Shhh…” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, “you must be quiet, Appoline.”

“O—okay,” she stuttered, staring into his eyes. Her lips were parted, her cheeks blushed, her eyes wide. Martin smirked and leaned forward, catching her lips in a deep kiss.

Appoline felt as if the world stopped and lasted forever all at once. They lazily kissed for a while, exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues. Martin pushed her against the wall, leaning forward so his entire body was pressed against hers and she felt his cock continue to rub against her throbbing, pleadingly. Feeling emboldened, she reached down to grab his hardened member, and ran her thumb across the head. She felt him stiffen up for a second but instantly relaxing as her hand began moving up and down his shaft at a steady pace. His lips left her own and instead began attacking her neck, sucking on the spot that was pulsating rapidly.

“That’s it, you’re doing _perfectly,_ keep going sweetheart,” he murmured against her, urging her on. She continued stroking him, enjoying the effect that she was having on the man. She imagined he must have been as touch starved as her… _20 years,_ she wondered…

Her nipples hardened as they continued rubbed against him and she felt dizzy as heat pooled down into her cunt. Warm water ran down her body towards her clit and she whined pathetically, as the pressure was building up and skyrocketing to a point where she wasn’t sure if she could stand it anymore.

“ _Martin, please_ ,” she whined softly, as she began to arch her hips towards him, begging. He grabbed her neck, applying a bit of pressure that was _just enough_ to feel lovely and not sinister. Appoline gasped again as she felt her cunt burning with desire for the man.

“ _Please_ **what** ,” he demanded. He was teasing her, toying with her, wanting her to give in and beg for it. Well she would. For _fucks sake_ , she’d plead for it if that’s what it took. All ego forgotten, it didn’t matter anymore.

“I need you,” she begged, and he growled possessively, his fingers on one hand digging deeper into her hips as the one squeezed her neck a bit more. Her eyes fluttered, trying to stay focused, “I need you _inside me._ ”

He gave her hip one last squeeze and rewarded her with a small smack on her butt, “ _That’s my girl_ ,” he answered, and with that he hoisted her small form up, her back steadying them against the wall. She gave a small moan and wrapped her arms and legs around him, tilting her head back. He growled possessively and spread her cheeks open, his cock sliding against her slick vulva but not quite going in. She squirmed and he chuckled, granting her another kiss on the neck.

“Eager little thing,” he marveled, and he positioned himself at her entrance.

He thrusted himself up inside her and she cried at the sensation, feeling herself completely filled with his cock. It practically knocks the breath out of her, and she feels as if she’s been set on fire as he continues to _bury_ himself inside her over and over again. He shushed her again, a stabilizing reminder that they needed to stay quiet, as he started to slowly rock into her.

“Mff—look at you,” Martin panted roughly, bouncing her up and down on his cock. He gazed at her needy expression, and let himself enjoy the mewls of delight that she was letting out _so prettily_ , “So shameless.”

Appoline can’t say anything. She’s too focused on the white burning pleasure ripping through her body as he pounds into her. She can’t focus on the sounds that they must be making, the _wet,_ obscene noises as his body impales in on her and splits her open. They’re clenching and throbbingin turns and she feels _weightless_ , allowing herself to completely melt into him. Martin tightens his grip and continues to crush her against the wall. Her broken gasps are sure to echo in the shower facilities and he takes his hand from the wall to grab her head and force it against his shoulder, muffling her small whines.

“Ten minutes!” a voice yells, and they are both brought back into reality for a moment as they hear the voice of Mr. David yelling at them from across the room. They had no idea how long they had spent and Appoline wanted to cry as he began to slow down his pace. Martin clenched his teeth in frustration.

“No—Don’t…don’t stop,” Appoline managed to whisper, and her plead was rewarded as Martin instantly _slammed_ himself right back in with a growl. He doesn’t stop. He continues to reward her by pounding her brutally into the wall with an even greater force.

Appoline holds on to him tightly, afraid that if she let go then whatever this fantasy was would disappear forever. And she didn’t know how long she had of him, if she would ever have him again, and she needed this…she _needed this._ Fuck, she never wanted anything else, never again.

She panted breathily as his cock continued to split her open and shredded up against something deep inside her, and he adjusts his angle _just so slightly_ and she lets out a muffled cry into his shoulder. Encouraged, Martin pummels into that one blinding, heavenly spot, over and over and over again. She curses slightly, feeling her cunt tighten and _tighten_ to an unbearable level and she knew she was almost spent.

He doesn’t take a single break in his hand, pounding rhythm but he growled in her ear, “That’s my good girl. Op—open, your eyes, sweetheart,” his ragged voice manages to say, and she opens her eyes to stare right into his. He gives a final growl, and grips her tighter, “ _That’s it_. I want to see your eyes when you cum for me.”

Somehow that drove her past the edge of all sanity and he probably gets about five more good thrusts in before she’s going rigid under him, her legs _flexxxxing_ and she’s cumming **hard** underneath him. Her cunt explodes, hot and wet around his cock and she spasms violently, letting out quick, fast pants in the air. But she’s staring at him the entire time, lost in his eyes as she’s riding the high and he snarls in pleasure. And then he’s lost to it too, _grindddding_ his cock inside just one more time before shuddering underneath her. She feels him pulsing inside her, breathing heavy as he unloads himself into her, and she feels hotter and sweatier and filthier then she had ever felt in her entire life.

She sat there breathlessly in his arms, hugged around him as he stayed inside of her for a few minutes trying to regain his own breath. Martin slowly came down from that orgasmic space, his blissful glaze focusing back to reality and with one last teasing push inside her, he pulled out of her and guided her body back into a standing position. Appoline stumbled a bit but braced herself against the shower wall, her teeth clenching as she felt the water hit her. The water had become cold at some point.

Martin breathed a large sigh and chuckled deeply as he walked and grabbed her towel that was on the floor, “I think we have about,” he gave a look as if he was pondering a serious thought, “four minutes left until our friend Mr. David says that we’re done.”

She nodded, her brain trying to make sense of his words. She wondered if he was timing himself the entire time, “O—kay,” she managed to get out. Her legs were still wobbly and she wasn’t sure if she could even move. Her cunt was still throbbing, a heartbeat in her groin and she was pretty certain she was leaking his cum all over her thighs.

Appoline was surprised when Martin did something she was certainly _not_ expecting from him; he reached under her arms and gently wrapped the towel around her body, tying it in the front. His hands reached to pet her long dark hair and smoothed it out, the curls had started to dry and become wild during their rendezvous. He grabbed her by the chin and locked his lips to hers. She savored it, unsure of when she would get another one. She sighed dreamily.

He chuckled in response, pleased by her responses. “Good. Now go back to your shower.” he ordered, and at that time they heard the tell-tale sound of the lock opening the door and Bill’s voice following as he greeted Mr. David. Martin gave her one final tap on the bum, “ _Now.”_

She nodded, and she quietly crept out of the shower and towards the very back of the room. She peered over the side of first row of showers, half hidden to see that the two men are still very animatedly discussing the escape attempt that had _just so conveniently_ occurred at the perfect time. With a deep breath and resolve, Appoline ran her way across the back of the room, careful to be as quiet as possible. _Somehow, someway_ she managed to make it to her shower before hearing Bill’s voice call out to her.

“Hey, vomit breath, you almost done in there?” he called out and she groaned in embarrassment. She had wanted to leave that part out of the discussion when she talked with Martin about what happened…she hoped he wasn’t disgusted. She brushed her teeth though, and he didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes! All finished!” she called back. The water had become _freezing_ in the time she had been away from it, but she quickly cleaned her body and pussy off with her loofah. “I’m getting changed right now, I’ll be out in a minute!”

“Well hurry up, it’s already been _wayyyy_ over a half hour. You should be back in your room by now,” he responded. She hurriedly dried her body off with her towel and threw on her clean white uniform. **#9875** stared up at her mockingly.

“Done!” she announced, and she opened the shower curtain and stepped out. Bill made his way towards her and he immediately cuffed her. He raised an eyebrow and took a hesitant sniff of her.

“Well you don’t smell like vomit anymore at least,” he said. They grabbed her items and made their way towards the front of the room again. Mr. David had gotten up to tell his patient that their shower time was over. Bill nodded towards the other guard.

“Thanks for staying in here for them both, sorry it took so long,” he said, “McCarey had gone off crazier than usual, man, should’ve seen it!” He laughed as if they were sharing some inside joke. The other man didn’t crack a smile. “Anyways, hopefully _this one_ wasn’t too much trouble for you.” He gestured his head towards Appoline like she was some sort of hilarious child creature. Mr. David shook his head.

“It wasn’t a problem,” he stated, before giving a final shout to Martin that his time was up and he could get out now, “Besides, I don’t think Dr. Whitly minded the extra time added to the shower tonight. Not often they get that privilege.”

Bill blinked as if not realizing, “Oh,” he blinked, frowning, “I didn’t realize it was Martin Whitly that you had here.”

Mr. David raised an eyebrow, “Well yes, generally I’m his regular assigned staff. And this is his shower time, he gets the last shift.”

Bill looked immediately annoyed upon receiving this information, and glared at Appoline as if to determine if she knew this. Appoline shrugged innocently back at him, her expression carefully mastered. Bill huffed once more, “Yeah? Well, those two are good _friends_ , don’t you know? They weren’t shouting with each other over the showers the whole time were they?”

Mr. David gave a small laugh, “No, nothing of the sort.” He gave Appoline a small nod, “You feel better now, Ms. Renard.”

“Thank you,” she responded quietly, hugging her damp towel to her chest. Bill rolled his eyes as he opened the door and they headed back out into the empty hallway. Whatever commotion the other patient had made outside had died down and the halls were empty of staff once again. They made their way to her room quietly, and he opened the cage for her and walked inside without a problem. He seemed annoyed at her, but she didn’t really care, because she had gotten everything that she had wanted that night. Appoline got what _she wanted_ , even in here, even in a place like Claremont, where all of the odds were stacked against her.

“Well, if you feel like you’re going to throw up again, throw up in the toilet this time,” Bill muttered as he locked her in the cage. “I’ll see if we can get you a bucket as well. And I’ll tell the nurse in the morning that you had gotten sick tonight.”

Appoline nodded slowly, murmuring a soft thanks as she crawled inside of her bed. Lights weren’t out for another hour or so but she was _tired_ , and knew that her body needed to rest for the night. Without a thought or a worry, she tucked her sheets closer to her chest as she curled up into a comfortable position and shut her eyes. Sleep came on like a dear old friend to her that night, and she let it wash over her and take her to dream land.


End file.
